Out From Under
by LovelyBullet
Summary: The Dark Lord is dead. Draco is finally free to live his life as he chooses. Until the ministry resurrects an old Malfoy inheritance rule and forces Draco's hand. While the Wizarding World works to restore itself, a new threat flares on the horizon, unlike any the world has seen. A story of finding new friends and the silver lining in the midst of tragedy.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.** Hi everyone! This is my first real attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic. Someone already pointed out in a review that my pronouns get mixed up (Thank you thank you thank you). I started the story in first person and then went back and changed it to third person once I had already reached the fifth chapter. So if you notice some bumps let me know and I will happily fix them! Let me know what you think!

* * *

 _Whoooooo Whoooooo_. The train whistle to signal the final hour of the journey. Hermione sat alone in the Heads' compartment still waiting to meet the Head Boy to her Head Girl. She had had no luck in the first few hours of the trip and it was doubtful the last hour would yield better results; he had even skipped the meeting with prefects. The muggle-born tucked loose waves behind her ears, closed her omni-present book, and stood to begin her duties.

The summer following the final battle was grueling. She had been unable to locate her parents, whom she had obliviated the prior summer. She made the educated guess that her mother had roped her father into trying out their outdoorsmen skills, an experience the older Granger had always dreamt about. They were almost certainly somewhere in the Australian wilderness living off the grid. Hermione had managed to track them to the southern portion of the country where she left behind tracker charms to notify her if they ever returned. After a month and a half searching for her parents, she returned to England to assist in rebuilding Hogwarts, her home away from home. Every time she stepped around the rubble, Hermione was struck that she no longer had a home, much less a second one, with her parents still missing. The construction effort, even with magic, was slow going. The project received a boost when an anonymous donor contributed the funds to pay fifty highly skilled magical constructors. By the time soon-to-be first years received their letters of acceptance, Hogwarts had been entirely rebuilt to its former glory.

Once the task at Hogwarts was complete, Hermione was left to sift through the pile of mail building up on the kitchen table in the small flat she was leasing for the summer months. The envelopes held varying offers: requests for interviews or photoshoots and marriage proposals to job offers and threats. All but the job offers were quick to be thrown into the small fireplace in the corner. The job offers were quick to follow, though, as each letter mentioned the requirements for the job, but then included some form of personalized note to implore her to apply despite her short comings, that her "real world experience" would certainly make up for any deficits. Hermione, being the forever proud Gryffindor girl wonder, would not be underqualified for any position and would not accept special treatment for doing good. _Anyone in the position I had fallen into during my teen years would have done the same as I had._ When she had finally threw all the mail in the fire to burn into oblivion, she used those flames to contact Professor-now-Headmistress McGonagall via floo.

It only took twenty minutes to convince McGonagall to allow select students to return to finish their schooling or, in some cases, repeat their final year due to deficiencies under the Death Eaters' rule. Only a week later, she received the letter formally inviting her to enroll as an eighth-year student to complete her education. The eighth year curriculum would be almost the exact same as that for year seven, but would allow for more autonomy. Hermione implored Harry and Ron to join her in finishing up their education, but both refused. Ron insisted his experiences from the past year would be enough for him to pursue an auror career; the thought of mediocrity made Hermione bristle. Harry, on the other hand, accepted an offer to play for the Chudley Cannons, which sent Ron into a passive-aggressive funk that only deepened when Hermione refused to shun the dark-haired boy.

Despite differences in plans for the next year, Ron and Hermione had pledged to continue dating despite the distance. The wizarding world absolutely adored the war hero coupling and had been vigorously following the love story since they had emerged from the Battle of Hogwarts hand in hand, stealing quick kisses. It was this interest that created the requests for magazine interviews and photoshoots. Hermione threw any offers into the fire, Ron was all too eager to drag his unwilling girlfriend from reporter to reporter. Aside from different expectations of privacy, it was easy being in a relationship with Ron, after all, they had been best friends nearly half of their lives. The only major hiccup in the coupling had come between the Battle of Hogwarts and Hermione taking a muggle plane, in hopes of following her parents' steps to a T, to Australia.

Hermione, having no other place to go, had stayed at the Burrow, in Ginny's room, until her flight. In the interim, she worked to find a small flat for one in muggle London, close to where she had grown up and mere seconds away from the Burrow by any magical means. Ron could not understand why Hermione couldn't just move in with him at the Burrow permanently. Hermione could not understand what good could come of moving in with a new boyfriend and his family. The argument had dissipated, but never resolved and Ron refused to visit her new flat once she found one.

Ron began his auror training around the same time she had succeeded in convincing McGonagall to allow eighth years, so Hermione was spared a large brunt of his disappointment in her accommodations. Only a few weeks later, Hermione received the letter that she would be the Head Girl for the upcoming school year. McGonagall stated that the staff and the Governors felt she deserved the title despite not technically being a seventh year. They felt confident she would do the best job and that seventh-year students would understand her selection. Hermione had been filled with joy when the Head Girl badge had clattered out of the envelope and into her palm. She had thought she had missed her chance.

 _I could not let them down_. She straightened her tie and strode out the sliding door. Ever since the Ford Angelina debacle, the Heads and Prefects had required students enter the rear entrance of the caboose so that they could take attendance. This meant first years, who were held up by doting parents and had no friends or siblings to hold them seats, were often relegated the very first carriage. This made Hermione's job of assuring the truly new first years were ready to disembark all the easier. She went through the carriage and poked her bushy-haired head into each compartment to remind the new students to change into their new robes and to look for her on the platform, but to leave their trunks on the train so they could be magically transported to the foot of their new beds. She had had her short speech rehearsed ever since the Head Girl had instructed her to do the same all those years ago.

She slid open the door to the final compartment in the carriage and began that rehearsed reminder, but stopped dead in her tracks when she registered the compartment's occupant. His head lolled back over the top of the seat and his feet, clad with impeccable dragonhide dress shoes, rested on the opposite seat, while a thick book, a potions book, rested in his lap. With eyes closed and breathing steady Draco Malfoy let out soft snores. Hermione allowed her eyes to rake over him in a way she had been forbidden from the moment the two meant. He had always been pale, his porcelain skin, grey eyes and white-blond hair did little to provide him any coloring, but in recent years Malfoy took pale to a new level; his skin had turned grey instead of porcelain, his eyes had dullened, and his hair grew greasy and perpetually disarrayed. The Malfoy that slept in front of her now looked to have more life in him. His hair was once again perfectly coiffed, but in a way that looked without effort, and his skin had a pinkish rather than grey undertone. He was dressed in his school pants and shirt with his tie loose around his neck and robes and jumper folded neatly beside him.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Hermione jumped when his icy grey eyes appeared from behind their lids. "I – ah, sorry. I was just reminding the first years that we were about to arrive and to leave their trunks on the train and to change into their robes and that I would meet them and – I'm Head Girl."

The corner of his lip tugged upward, "I should've known, who else would be Head Girl?"

"I – why are you here?" His eye brow arched, "I mean here as in the first-year carriage not here as in going to school. You have every right to go back to school to finish your education, that's what I'm doing after all, but you already did your seventh year, but I suppose you were distracted, I – I'm babbling again, aren't I?" She had developed a bad habit of babbling early on in her Hogwarts career, a symptom of having too much knowledge stuffed into her brain. Ron and Harry had usually served as a release valve, a place for her to share as much as she wished since neither was listening. Now, she had neither boy and was prone to bursts such as the one Malfoy had been forced to witness.

Malfoy closed his book, tucking a folded up piece of parchment to save his place, and set it aside. Flicking out his jumper, he pulled it over his head without disturbing a single hair on his perfectly messy hair, "Just a bit. To answer your questions, I'm returning to school due to insufficiencies in my seventh year and I'm sitting here, among the first years, in hopes that I would be left alone. Leave it to you, Granger, war heroine know-it-all, to thwart my evil plot."

She blinked. He had _complimented her_ as a war heroine, but taken it back with his know-it-all comment. "Oh. Sorry. I – I'll leave you be then. Just, remember to leave your trunk on the train and I see you're already in your school cloths. And you'll follow the majority of the students to the thestrals to ride up to the castle." Hermione hoped the boy perceived her exit as a graceful turn on her heel and her _striding_ away, letting the door close behind her. But she had an aching feeling he saw her heel catch in the carpet and that her pace was a bit too quick to be a stride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"What are you doing here?" Theo Nott crinkled his nose down at Draco from his perch in the carriage. "Shouldn't you be helping the girl wonder escort the little Firsties across the lake? Or stalking that Firsty you took an interest in?"

"Shut up, Nott." Draco smirked the famous Malfoy smirk, climbing up to settle beside Blaise Zabini, across from Theo. "First, Granger explicitly told me to follow the rest of my classmate up to the castle using the carriages. It's not my fault she didn't know I was Head Boy." He straightened his robes for emphasis, "And second, I'm watching Lucy because we need to stick together. You two should understand _that_ more than anyone."

"Not _me_!" Blaise scoffed playfully, " _I_ never joined the _cause_ nor did any of _my_ family."

"Don't worry Blaise, you're plenty guilty by association." Theo chuckled ruefully, "Inviting us for summers at your villa, staying with the Malfoys when your mother went on her honeymoons. Plus, there's plenty of blame to go around."

" _Anyway_ ," Draco leaned back in the carriage as it started moving, "Did you two get these letters?" Brandishing the think, ministry blue, parchment.

"I did, Zabini didn't." Nott groaned, but now it was Zabini's turn to smirk, "His assets are all through the Italian Ministry. Mine's not bad, more a suggestion than anything else, the Notts were never as _tough_ as the Malfoys. How'd you make out?"

 _He had just returned from a prolonged vacation to the United States. He had been looking to get away from the notoriety his last name brought in England and on the continent. Banging and grunting could easily be heard from his spot in the kitchen; the Manor was in dire need of an update, not only had it not been renovated since the 1800s, but it now held memories worse than he cared to relive. He bent over a granite countertop, baring his weight on his forearms, as he sipped at his coffee, a habit he had picked up while on vacation. A sharp_ clink, clink, clink _tore Draco's attention away from his copy of the Daily Prophet which had a large picture of the_ famed Golden Trio _printed boldly across the front page. A large grey owl clung to his windowsill, clicking his talon against the window with a small letter clenched in its beak. The letter was blue, blue meant the ministry, and the ministry never meant anything good for people like the Malfoys. Draco opened the window, took the letter and gave the owl a scratch on the head before it flew off. He unfolded the letter and immediately wished he was back on vacation:_

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

 _As I am sure you are aware, you have become the tentative Master of Malfoy Manor and the associated fortune. As mandated by your ancestor, Lucius Malfoy I, your position as Head of the family will not be solidified until you have taken a wife. If you have not entered into a marriage contract by your nineteenth birthday, half of your family's accounts will be transferred to your closest living relative, Edward Remus Lupin, your first cousin once removed. If this has not occurred by your twentieth birthday, the entirety of your family's accounts as well as the deed to the Manor and other properties, including Malfoy Apothecaries, will be transferred to your closest living relative, Edward Remus Lupin, your first cousin once removed._

 _Hoping you are well,_

 _Alicia Bennet_

 _Office of Magical Estates, Ministry of Magic_

* * *

"At least you have two years?" Blaise ventured, "Because let's be honest, half of the Malfoy fortune is enough to last a few hundred generations."

"Not to mention, that kid could use something going his way." Draco muttered, just as the towering castle came into view.

xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox

 _Whoever this Head Boy is I'm going to kill him_. Hermione had had to wrangle forty first years into the boats and across the lake all by herself. Of course, Hagrid was there, but his gruff nature tended to frighten the average fist year, add in his imposing size and his childish tendencies meant he was little help during the crossing.

Hagrid, Hermione, and the newest class, made it to the other side of the lake with only two first years falling into the water. After a quick drying spell and a stern scolding, both from Hermione, the group progressed through the labyrinth of stairs and crude hallways to the castle. The sorting ceremony was uneventful albeit twice as long as usual since so many parents had kept their students home the previous year, causing the influx of first years. Hufflepuff was the big winner this year, taking a whopping fifteen first years, nearly half the class. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw each took the usual one fourth of the incoming class, leaving Slytherin lacking and taking only five new students, four boys and a girl.

The war had taken its toll on the wizarding community. Many students who would have been sorted into Slytherin had been hidden away by parents, concerned for repercussions of associates' actions during the war. Those newly sorted Slytherin students would have to possess a small amount of Gryffindor courage to have ventured away from their parents' protection. Overall, the students who did return had had the fight beaten out of them. These were children who had lived the majority of their life while Voldemort was trying, and then succeeding, to make his return. This meant this new class was timid, more willing to compromise and discuss rather than fight or argue, than previous years. This almost certainly caused the influx of Hufflepuffs.

Hermione watched the newest class find seats along their tables. The Hufflepuff table filled nearly to the brim with the older students vigorously greeting their younger counterparts. By contrast, the Slytherin table had very few students, new or returning. The green-clad students merely nodded in recognition to one another as they were spread out, only two to a bench rather than the usual four. Hermione noticed all five of the first years integrate with older students, perhaps siblings or friends; the new recruits were not without protection. Hermione sighed in relief.

The staff table was filled with familiar faces. Professor McGonagall had taken her place in the Headmaster's seat. Although the older women still taught transfiguration classes, she had assumed the Headmistress role with all its administrative duties. On the new Headmistress's right sat her second in command. Following her own appointment, Headmistress McGonagall had appointed Professor Sprout as the deputy headmistress. The staff was almost identical to that of Hermione's sixth year, the only exceptions being the positions the Carrows had held the previous year. McGonagall had struggled to find replacements for both of these positions, but succeeded by looking outside of the proverbial box. For Muggle Studies, Mrs. Figg, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and Harry's old neighbor was selected. Her youth in the wizarding world and adulthood predominantly in the muggle world made her uniquely qualified for the position. A more surprising hire came when McGonagall looked at recent graduates for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Oliver Wood sat proudly at the staff table wearing robes with Gryffindor red trim. Since he had graduated three years ago, he had been a quietly active member of the Order, using his occupation as an international Quidditch player as an effective cover. He was essential in smuggling information to and from the Continent and proved himself well versed in Defensive strategies during the Battle. He was selected to serve as both the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and as the Head of Gryffindor House. He was one of the youngest professors, let alone Head of House, Hogwarts had had in recent years.

"Welcome back students." The older witch called out to the swollen hall, "Today, we reassemble for yet another school year. Your bravery and resilience in the past year made it possible for Hogwarts to continue its tradition of educating witches and wizards of the future despite any hardships faced by the outside world. To those of you who lost love ones in the course of the war, they will be missed. The infirmary will be expanding its services to include an array of emotional and mental support services. If anyone should find themselves or a friend in need of these services, please contact Madame Pomfrey. All meetings will be kept confidential.

"It fills me with pride and joy to see all of your faces here in the Great Hall to begin another year of growth and learning. If you look closely, you will notice we are a bit larger this year due to thirteen students who should have graduated last year returning to complete their education in a respectable manner…"

The Headmistress continued with her welcome speech and the feast quickly followed. The eighth years sat at a table all their own. It was in an oval shape with thirteen seats scattered around it. The table was situated closest to the main entrance, perpendicular to the four house tables and parallel to the staff table. Hermione sat at the head of the table, on the Gryffindor side of the hall, surrounded by Fay Dunbar and Neville Longbottom, with Lavender Brown to Fay's right, solidifying the Gryffindor block at the table. The sides of the table filled with five Ravenclaws and only one Hufflepuff, Hannah Abbott. At the table's other end, Draco Malfoy perched at the head of the table with Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini on either side of him. The three Slytherins stood out from the table not only for their impeccable posture, but also for their utter silence.

Hermione took a moment to observe her classmates while their attention was on their plates. Hannah Abbott sat beside Neville, hanging on his every word. The girl had a small scar just at her hairline, probably from a wayward curse. She had been one of the few Hufflepuff to fight in the final battle. The five Ravenclaws made up the largest house cohort within the eighth years. They were seated the closest to the Slytherins, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the blue-robed students crowded away from their green-covered counterparts. The three serpents seemed to take little notice of their treatment and continued their meals in silence. Hermione was mesmerized by their tendencies. They weren't piling their plates as high as skyscrapers nor were they shoving food into their mouths until it was a miracle they could breathe. She rolled her eyes at the thought of Ron's table manners, _certainly something I would need to fix_. Upon closer inspection, it turned out the boys were not silent, but merely quiet, exercising restraint. Nott muttered what seemed to be jokes every once in a while. Zabini chuckled and often looked up, across the table, at the jokester. Malfoy, however, kept his head down and appeared to make no movement other than those necessary to eat. Despite wearing the standard Hogwarts uniform: black shoes and pants, grey sweater vests, white long-sleeved shirts, black robes with accents denoting house, and ties striped in the house colors; they managed to look _good_ in the unflattering uniform. She had always assumed it was simply because they could afford better quality and tailor visits with every growth spurt, but Hermione was beginning to suspect the elegance these boys conveyed came more from their straight backs and closed mouths, only opening to accept small bites of normally-portioned foods. Hermione's eyes stilled and as a single blonde head tilted up for the first time the entire meal, just high enough to trap chocolate brown eyes with his stormy grey. _Draco Malfoy had caught me watching. Contemplating his mouth, no less_. He must have finally looked up to acknowledge one of Nott's comments and instead found her looking right at him. The boy held her gaze as his lips quirked up into a smirk.

His friends quickly noticed his preoccupation and glanced down the table to find the object of Draco's attention. Blaise shrugged off Draco's nonverbal exchange with the muggle-born and turned back to his food to grab another portion of peas. Theo on the other hand watched the duo until Granger dropped her gaze while her cheeks turned a violent shade of pink. She let her curls fall like a wall around her face. The girl almost jumped out of her seat when the Longbottom boy nudged her to ask for more gravy. Theo chuckled to himself and turned his attention to his longtime friend. To the average observer, Draco was simply focusing on getting that last piece of potato onto his fork. To Theo, who had known the blonde almost all his life, it was clear Draco was using the tuber as a cover while he continued to watch the girl across the table. She was laughing at something the Dunbar girl was saying. Nott turned back to Draco just in time to see the blonde's lips quirk up to a shadow of a smile before falling back into his usual scowl. Malfoy could sense eyes on him so he turned to meet Theo's amusement.

"What?" Draco quietly accused.

"Nothing." Theo shook his head and returned to his meal, aware that his friend's eyes had briefly shifted to him before latching back onto Granger. Theo had always had a theory. Perhaps he was observant, but more than likely he was just glutton for punishment. Theo had always believed that under circumstances, Granger and Draco would have been far from enemies. He had watched Draco and Granger battle for the top spot in their year, and, since he had known Draco all his life, Theo knew Draco was _letting_ her win. Every holiday, Draco would go home and be forced to explain to his father why he was mere points behind a muggle-born and then be left to face the consequences. Theo could only guess as to why Draco put on a show of working so hard, but never turned a page during his hour-long study session. Blaise thought it was because Draco got off on antagonizing his father (and nothing antagonized Lucius Malfoy like his son falling behind a muggleborn) but the romantic in Nott liked to think it was for a certain brunette who had very little else going for her. Draco might have been the son of a now-known Death Eater family, but he was attractive, charismatic, athletic, wealthy, stately, among other things. He could sacrifice the title of top intellect for the girl with bushy hair and a bossy voice.

"I hope you have all enjoyed your meals and are ready to start another year. A few announcements before we leave for a good night's sleep. First years, you will follow your house's prefects back to your respective common rooms. Any questions regarding schedules or rules can be directed to those prefects upon reaching your destination," McGonagall paused, "It is of highest priority to the staff to have a safe and uneventful year, as has not been the case in recent years. In order to facilitate this task, customary curfews will be moved up for each class year, unless granted written permission by a staff member. Any other information you need can be obtained from your prefects. Before allowing you all to adjourn to your commons for a sound night's sleep before classes, I would like to introduce you to our Heads for this year. After careful deliberation, the Governors and I have decided to appoint two eighth years as our Heads," there was some grumbling from seventh years who had been hoping from the war, "our own resident war heroine, Miss Hermione Granger," Hermione blushed, first at the epithet the Headmistress had chosen for her and then at the roaring applause that flooded the hall, forcing the older women to stop her speech. Neville stood as he clapped, looking fondly down at the young witch. Next came a wave, first the Gryffindors stood, then the Hufflepuffs, then the Ravenclaws. Only the Slytherins remained seated, looking back and forth to one another. Then they stood, joining in on the clapping, certainly pressured by the rest of the hall. What Hermione did not see was Draco Malfoy look first to Theo Nott and then to Blaise Zabini. The three boys stood in unison, drawing the rest of their house with them. Slowly the noise died down and McGonagall was able to finish, "and another student who has proven indispensable during the cleanup, Draco Malfoy." Silence. Complete and utter silence for a split second. Then Slytherins _erupted_. There hadn't been a Slytherin Head Boy in quite some time, almost thirty years. If Hermione was being honest, there hadn't been a Slytherin Head Boy since Professor Dumbledore had ascended to the role of Headmaster. Hermione found herself clapping without thinking, Neville looked at her in shock, but followed along. Fay joined in, as did Hannah Abbott, soon Hufflepuff had joined in and then Ravenclaw. The majority of the noise was still coming from Slytherin, whose students had dropped their dignified and restrained air to cheer on their housemate. The main Gryffindor table didn't move, they only shot icy glares at the new Head Boy who sat stoically in his chair.

That's when Hermione heard it. A voice from her house's table shouted, "Death Eater!" More cries followed hot on their heels. _Liar. Traitor. Low Life. You bought it._ And a slew of other rude, crude, and outrageous shouts. Hermione looked at the boy across from her. He hadn't flinched when the jeers started, he stayed with the same blank expression on his face. Hermione let her eyes bore into him, imploring him to look at her. He did. His eyes were filled with emotion. Not pride. Not anger. Not even annoyance. _Sadness._ The slurs made Draco Malfoy _sad_. Hermione nodded at the boy and rose to her feet.

The words slid from her mouth, her face a cold schooled expression of nothingness as she stared down her housemates. "Fifty points from Gryffindor. For insubordination, disruption of the peace and general rudeness." She let her icy gaze drag down the table, "The war is over. It is time for a fresh start. We have repented our crimes, and in some cases undergone rehabilitation programs. We are all here at Hogwarts to learn, to develop, to grow into strong witches and wizard who can help rebuild Wizarding Britain. A house divided against itself cannot stand. Do not let us crumble so soon after we're won." The hall had fallen silent as soon as soon as she deducted points. This did not change once she sat back into her seat.

The Headmistress cleared her throat to reclaim the hall's attention, "Yes, well put Miss Granger. I would like to ask those eighth years to remain behind for further instructions. And now, everyone off to bed! Welcome back!" Scrapes and creaks filled the hall while the younger students left the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.** Hi guys, sorry that I forgot to update yesterday! But here is chapter 3! Don't be afraid to review! And in case it wasn't abundantly clear, I don't own Harry Potter.

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"Lavender?" Hannah Abbott inquired of the Gryffindor sitting beside her, "What's the matter? You barely ate a thing."

"Oh, nothing Hannah." The girl sighed, glancing towards the end of the table, "I just haven't been feeling very well lately."

"Welcome back ladies and gentlemen." McGonagall had reached us, the only students left in the hall, "I would like to show you to your new rooms." McGonagall led us through the bends and turns of the castle. "Since you are all of legal age and there simply is not enough space in most of your Houses to fit you." The woman chuckled, "You will all be living here. Together." They were stopped in front of an empty expanse of wall on the third floor, "All you need to do to enter is cross the threshold three times simply walk through the wall. It will recognize you as an inhabitant and allow you passage."

McGonagall waited for all except Hermione to pass through the wall. When it was just the two witches, the elder spoke, "Your speech today set us well on the track to have a civil and productive year. We made the correct choice for Head Girl." Hermione, readying herself to take her leave, nodded and thanked the Headmistress, "And Ms. Granger," Hermione halted, "Please do keep an eye out for Mr. Malfoy and his fellow Slytherins. I would not have invited them back had I not seen that they had redeeming qualities that mitigated their affiliation during the war. I trust that you could understand that, but the general school population might believe I have gone the way of the late Headmaster Garflaflo, that is to say, utterly bonkers."

Hermione nodded, agreeing to protect her new dorm mates, but she did not see the point: what protection could Malfoy and the others need from a muggle-born. Tonight was mere name calling, surely the three Slytherins were tougher than that, as the muggles say, _Sticks and Stones._ The two bid one another a good night before Hermione passed through the wall to her new home. The room was circular, probably in one of Hogwarts's many towers. A quick look out one of the many windows, complete with seats in their sills, confirmed her suspicions. The floor was a deep hard wood, with a large, white area rug situated in the middle. The walls were a soft lavender, showing no affiliation to any particular house. The furniture, all plush and all white, was situated around a large stone fireplace on the wall opposite the door. Flanking the fireplace were four staircases, two on either side, with house crests plastered above the porticos. From left to right, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and then Slytherin. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw staircases climbed into the tower. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff staircases spiraled downwards. Against the wall she had just entered through were floor to ceiling bookshelves housing titles covering topics from academia to romance, from the wizarding world to the muggle world.

It was the clinking of ice in a glass that alerted her that she was not alone in the spacious room. One of the alcoves, between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin staircases, was larger than the rest. She quietly advanced deeper into the room to peer into the cutout, the Slytherins, all with glasses of what looked like fire whiskey in their hands. Nott and Zabini were each sitting in armchairs, Nott doing _something_ to his broom and Zabini scrunching his face at a transfiguration book. Malfoy, on the other hand, sat on a loveseat and was staring out the window, evidently seeing something worth watching in the dark of the window.

It was Nott that spotted her first. He nudged Zabini. Together they gathered their things and crossed the room to descend into the Slytherin dorms. Malfoy did not move from his perch looking out the window, "Do you drink?" He asked, finally turning to look at her.

"Not fire whiskey," She spoke from the boundary between the alcove and the rest of the room. She did not add that Ron didn't like her drinking the _hard stuff_ as he called it, he said it was unladylike.

"I don't buy that." He poured her a glass and slid it across the coffee table between his couch and the two armchairs. She crossed, picking up the drink and primly settling into the chair across him. Hermione eyed the drink suspiciously. She hadn't had fire whiskey since the Weasley twins snuck some in for a post-match party. Malfoy took the drink from her hand, his fingers grazing hers for just a moment, and took a deep swig, "See, not poisonous." He handed it back to hers and turned back to his own drink.

"I didn't think it was poisoned." Hermione laughed, a tinkling sound. She raised the glass to her mouth and sputtered a bit, "I just don't usually drink. Ron doesn't like it when I drink. He says its unladylike." She crossed her ankles delicately and leaned to rest on one of the arms.

Malfoy _snorted_ in a very un-Malfoyish way. "I _cannot_ imagine you taking _orders_ from Weasley, even if he is your intended."

"We are not _engaged_." Hermione sputtered. "I'm barely eighteen!" She added as an afterthought, "And I don't follow his orders."

"Most purebloods are engaged by then. Whether or not you like it, your boyfriend is a pureblood. His older brothers are strange in that they've been traveling the world for their careers. I can't imagine your Weasley deferring an engagement while he sits at a desk job."

"He's training to be an auror. He won't be at a desk."

"He's unqualified to be an auror. He'll be one in name but never see the field. You knew that. That's why you came back to finish your education and become qualified for those jobs you were erroneously offered." He was leaning forward now, holding her gaze, "You know," He resumed after a slight pause, "I think they would've let _you_ into the field. You were qualified to be an auror by the age of thirteen." He chuckled and she smiled. "Anyway, thank you, for what you said back there. I owe you one." He was being genuine.

"Actually, you owe me two." His eyebrows climbed his forehead, "You left me to deal with eighty first years and Hagrid all alone!"

He laughed, a deep laugh that echoed around the room, "You very clearly told me to follow the rest of the students on the Thestrals. I merely followed your orders." She rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, I promise I will never follow your direct orders again." His signature smirk played across his face. Malfoy raised his glass to his mouth and allowed all the amber liquid to drain. "Come on, Granger. Bottoms up. Prove the Weasel doesn't order you around." She closed her eyes and embraced the fire slide down her throat, "Now that's the Granger I know." He stood and she followed suit, "It'll be a pleasure working with you." He held out her hand. She let it hang for a moment while she contemplated.

This is the same boy who had tormented her, called her _mudblood_ , for the better part of their education. He was responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore and all those that died that night during her sixth year. His house was used as Death Eater Headquarters for the last year. But he had been sad when they heckled him. She let her smaller hand interlace with his larger one and they shook, forming a tentative truce.

They said their goodnights and parted for their separate dormitories. Hermione let her hand brush along the spines of the books while she crossed the room to the Gryffindor steps. She climbed the stairs, following the rightward branch when it split to the female dormitory. As she opened her door she couldn't help but notice her hand was still warm with a slight tingle alive on her skin.

She let her eyes wander around the room. Three, four poster beds with soft red curtains hanging, ready to provide the inhabitant a small sliver of privacy, were situated around the circumference of the circular bed room, forming a triangle of sorts. Fay sat on the bed in the middle, sifting through small items she had presumably removed from her trunk. The girl had her hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head, a pair of thick glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

"Lavender ran into the bathroom as soon as we got here." Fay nodded her head at a closed door to her right without lifting her eyes from her task, "You get second choice of bed."

Hermione thanked the girl and fell onto the bed in front of her, closest to the staircase and bordered on either side by large window seats. "I think I'll be going to bed now, if you don't mind." They said their goodnights, Hermione cast a quick cleansing charm and transfigured her uniform into her comfiest pajamas, simple red plaid pants and a black tank top. She pulled my curtains shut tight and cast a silencing charm that made the red fabric ripple just a bit.

Safe, in the stillness the curtains afforded her, Hermione lay her head down on the plush pillow and allowed herself to finally mourn. Mourn because she had lost her parents, mourn because she was unhappy in a relationship she had wished for for years, and mourn because she was alone in a place that had always meant friendship.

xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox

* * *

The corridors were empty this late. Draco had every right to wander the halls after curfew under the guise of doing rounds. However, his two friends quarreling under his family's invisibility cloak did not have any right to wander the halls after curfew. Draco growled at the pair to shut their mouths as the trio descended into the dungeons, on their way to the annual Slytherin start of term party. The group abruptly halted in front of an abandoned portion of dungeon wall. Malfoy muttered the password, _Slytherus_ , and the three passed through the door that appeared.

The party was in full swing, but it was not nearly as raucous as it had been in previous years. Music played from somewhere in the room, but it was much quieter than the usual thumping volume. A few students were drinking, but very few since so many Slytherin students were so young. Most of Draco's year and the two years below had not returned. Many, like Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, had perished during the war, others, like Hestia and Flora Carrow, were shunned from wizarding society due to family members' actions. As it was, the entirety of the sixth and seventh years were missing from Slytherin house. To make matters worse, only five first years were sorted into the House this year.

"Draco!" A little girl propelled herself into the blonde's arms, "I made it! I didn't think I would, but look! I'm a Slytherin!"

"How could you have been anything else, Lulu?" Draco chuckled and patted the little girl's dark hair.

Theo and Blaise had slipped out from under the invisibility cloak as soon as they had arrived. The cloak, an old Malfoy heirloom, slipped neatly into Draco's back pocket thanks to an undetectable extension charm. The two dark haired Slytherins melded in with a group of fifth years, chatting with the Yaley twins, two pureblood girls raised in muggle London. Kate and Jane were at the top of their class in almost every discipline. Their older sister, Hannah, was a Ravenclaw, until Fenrir Greyback got his hands on her at the Battle of Hogwarts. Now, she was doing her best to adapt to life as a werewolf.

Little Lulu pulled Draco over to a pair of arm chairs away from the music source and started yammering on about her aspirations for her first year at Hogwarts. She was particularly excited to start flying lessons, her father had coached her a bit when he was not preoccupied with other activities. Hogwarts's ban on first years playing quidditch irritated her, but she was excited to practice over the summer and try out next year. "After all," she said, "I'm pretty sure I'd be most effective as a seeker, but _you're_ the seeker, so I'll wait until next year." She made him promise to coach her during the summer and over breaks. Draco didn't have the heart to tell her he wasn't leaving over breaks if he could help it.

"You know," Draco drawled, "The Slytherin team is really low in numbers. If you're as qualified as you say, we might be able to get the ban lifted. It's happened before." The girl squealed in delight, clapping her hands in front of her twinkling blue eyes, "We'll go talk to Slughorn after dinner tomorrow." She flew out of her chair and threw her arms around Draco's neck, pulling him close.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.** Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long, I've been going back to edit what I have already written and try to add some moments in. I would love to hear what people thought for some guidance on future chapters!

Thank Merlin for pepperup potions. Draco downed a serving first before passing the jug to his two friends. With his newly un-muddled mind, Draco straightened his tie and set off for breakfast, Theo and Blaise following after they swallowed their medicine. The three Slytherins had been friends as long as any of the three could remember; Draco had known Theo since they were in diapers and Blaise since they were in training underpants. Theo and Blaise had never been his followers as Crabbe and Goyle had been, the former pair would call him on his bullshit, which was why the three were not often seen together in their early years when Draco was only looking for lackeys and the power they conveyed. The three complemented each other in ways their other classmates could not. Theo and Draco were standoffish, but Blaise schmoozed anyone who crossed his path. Draco and Blaise wooed any girl who crossed their paths for quick tryst while Theo preferred to pine from afar. Blaise and Theo preferred to lurk in the shadows, out of the public eye, but Draco always desired to stand in the spotlight.

When the trio first came to Hogwarts, Draco had desired fame apart from his father. On the platform, the blonde shunned his equals in favor of witless muscle named Crabbe and Goyle. His enforcers followed him up and down the train, helping him terrorize his fellow classmates, while Theo and Blaise lounged in a compartment alone, swapping sweets and trading gossip. Draco happened upon them, with Crabbe and Goyle at his back. He asked if they wanted to join him, the makings of a true gang. They laughed in his face, telling him that the fumes from his hair gel were clearly distorting his image of self-importance.

Eight first days later, the boys walked in step with one another through the silent hallways. This particular plan was Theo's brainchild. After watching his friend get heckled, _at the Opening Feast no less_ , Theo thought it best to avoid large crowds, Gryffindors. Zabini and Draco quickly agreed. This is how the three found themselves descending the main staircase at six in the morning, a full hour and a half before breakfast formally began. The Grand Hall held only a smattering of Ravenclaws, a couple Hufflepuffs, McGonagall, Sprout and Sinistra without a single Slytherin or Gryffindor insight. Theo's plan was off to a good start as the three settled at the end of the eighth year table and tucked into their breakfast.

A single owl fluttered through the rafters, swooping down to drop a letter in Theo's lap and then another in Draco's. A reminder about their required nuptials. Draco huffed, all Theo's threatened was a delay in his access to his trust fund: pushed back from age twenty to age twenty-five if he hadn't married by his twentieth birthday. The ministry kindly included a list of eligible women for Draco to consider. _Abbot, Hannah … Brown, Lavender… Granger, Hermione … Greengrass, Astoria … Parkinson, Pansy… Patil, Padma … Patil, Pavarti …_ Draco wrinkled his nose. Those on the list he could tolerate would never deign to associate with him. He had his work cut out for him.

Draco was intended for Daphne Greengrass as recently since their infancy. She was found dead in July on the edge of the Black Lake. She was lucky though, Fenrir Greyback had found her before her death. Had she not died, she would have certainly been transformed into a werewolf, a fate Draco knew she perceived as worse than death. Draco attended the funeral, supplied his condolences, and then looked to remove himself from the Greengrass sphere of influence.

The Greengrass prided itself for its position on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list and they would do anything to maintain it. Or anyone. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Rumor had it even brothers and sisters. Clinging to their blood and wealth, the Greengrass family would not survive the new world order. Draco had promised his mother before she went away that he would work to restore the Malfoy family name and to repent for the sins of his father. He could not do that with a Greengrass by his side, even one as malleable as Astoria.

She was _too_ malleable, Draco realized. He wanted a partner, not a submissive. He wanted his wife to stand at his side. He wanted her to be his equal in every way. But that list was lacking. It gave him no viable options. There were choices if he could stomach a bigot. There were choices if he could tolerate a traditional pureblood wife: pretty and vapid. But there were no choices if Draco wanted an intelligent, strong woman to stand at his side, to help him redeem the Malfoy name, to begin a new dynasty with new traditions and a reputation for tolerance, and to do so willingly, not for his money or his name.

Draco raked his fingers down his face. His fortune would be gone and he would be alone.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The sounds of Hogwarts woke Hermione for her first day of classes. She could hear the birds chirping as she flicked her wand to draw back the curtains. She could smell the breakfast wafting up from the Great Hall as she crossed to the bathroom. She could feel the magic tingling through the air, dancing across her skin as she stretched and looked in the golden-framed mirror. _It looks like I waged a war in my sleep_. Her hair stuck out in every direction, her eyes were red, but the skin underneath them were a deep blue. Thinking back to last night she resolved to never break like that again, not out of self-pity. _I will not be a victim. I will not dwell on what I lost. I will think of the future I have gained a chance at._ She had lost so much, some never to be regained, but she still had Harry and Ginny and Ron. And Mrs. And Mr. Weasley and George. She would be alright, she worked to convince herself.

Seven years ago, when Hermione had caught her reflection in a similar mirror in the first-year Gryffindor dorms, her eyes had _twinkled_ with excitement for her first full day immersed in the wizarding world, her hair had seemed alive and _electric._ That was no longer the case; a year on the run had its consequences. Despite Molly Weasley's best attempts, Hermione was still much lighter than she had been this time last year. Her elbows protruded unnaturally away from her frame and her ribcage could still be seen under the skin of her stomach. Although today's outward appearance was particularly bad, the red eyes and the bags were a new regularity of her appearance. The dark shadows perpetually hung around her eyes and she had found not one, but three gray hairs last week. She could not fix the internal turmoil that caused most of these visual changes, but she had a trick or two up her sleeve to fix the physical. During her fourth year, just in time for the Yule Ball, she had had enough of the teasing and the taunting she endured because of her appearance and had searched the library to discover _Madame Minnie's Most Necessary Appearance Enhancers_. She used charms to puff up the skin under her eyes, to smooth her hair back into an easy ponytail, to brighten her skin just a little, so she didn't look like a zombie. She hoped it would be enough; she _hated_ when people worry about her.

Tying a simple red ribbon around the base of her ponytail and then making quick work of the regulation uniform, Hermione set off for breakfast. She quietly closed the door to afford her roommates another moment or two of sleep. Hermione nearly _hopped_ down the stairs trying to convince herself that she was happy and that the only emotion plaguing her mind was excitement for another first day of school. Her final last day of school. She reached the bottom of her staircase, hiked her bag over her shoulder and set off for the Grand Hall alone.

Hogwarts was just how she remembered, despite having hosted a tragedy only months before. Despite the sun slanting through the windows, casting overly long beams of light on the walls opposite, there was a perpetual draft through the corridors. The knights that had come alive to protect the castle that fateful night stood in their alcoves, waiting for another call to action. The castle seemed cooperative this morning as staircases waited for her before swinging to different locations and Peeves was nowhere to be seen. There was a quiet murmur coming from the Great Hall, only a few students awake to fill the hall. Being on the run had forced Hermione to be both a morning bird and a night owl, there was no reason that would stop simply because the war was over. That would have been too easy, to sleep.

Walking through the double doors, Hermione saw them before they saw her. The eighth-year table was empty, aside from the three Slytherins. She slowly crossed the hall to the table. _Do I sit where I was last night and leave them alone? Or would that be rude, look like I'm avoiding them? I'm not avoiding them. I just don't particularly want to spend my morning meal with them. Talking to Malfoy last night wasn't terrible, but what about the others? They didn't stay, they had left. I should have waited for Fay, but waiting for Fay probably would have meant Lavender. Maybe I'll make plans with Neville…_

"Promise we won't bite, love," Zabini drawled with his Italian accent, "Unless that's your thing." Zabini winked. Malfoy rolled his eyes, Nott let out a small chuckle. Hermione had managed to cross the hall while pondering her seating choices and was stupidly standing in front of the table, "Here." Zabini patted the seat beside him, "It would be an honor to sit next to one of the wizarding world's saviors." She hesitantly sunk onto the bench beside Zabini, still contemplating her choices. _Do we chat? Do we eat in silence? Why didn't I wait for Neville?_

"What are the plans for tryouts this weekend? Anyone promising?" Hermione couldn't tell who had spoken, no one had moved.

"Hope some halfway decent players show up and try to field a team." Draco didn't look up from the boiled egg he was trying to de-shell. _They were speaking without moving a muscle. They look like they're sitting in silence and yet they're having a conversation._

"Draco," It was Blaise, his lips had twitched almost imperceptibly, "We're missing an entire team. We have the three of us. We need _at least_ four more to field a team. Having a couple alternates, one for each position would be best, but we wouldn't want to get greedy." That's when it struck Hermione. The lack of Slytherins yesterday was because none of the sixth or seventh years had returned to school. Other students throughout the years were missing, but the bulk of the gap lay in the missing upper years.

"Because they were either locked up or someone they knew was locked up. Or they're dead." Malfoy finished her sentenced, "If you're going to disparage my house, please do so in your head rather than aloud." An awkward silence fell; Hermione hadn't realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. _Did that mean our truce is over?_

"I – I'm sorry." She stuttered out, "I didn't mean to offend, I didn't even mean to speak. I just not-"

"It's fine, Granger." Malfoy bit, "You've done enough for the world to gain some leeway."

She was about to give them her speech about not wanting special treatment because of her role in the war. The speech she had perfected in declining those condescending job offers. Before she could begin, _It was all by chance! Because I happened to be sorted into Gryffindor with Harry_ , Fay and Lavender arrived, Neville in tow.

"Sitting in the snake pit today, I like!" Fay plopped on to the seat next to Theo, Lavender beside her, and Neville into the one next to Hermione, "Fay Dunbar." She introduced herself to each boy in turn. Nott shook her hand with a warm smile. Malfoy accepted with a skeptical face. Blaise made some inappropriate comment about her reputation preceding her. "Hermione, you were so lucky to wake up early! Lavender barricaded herself in the bathroom again this morning." Fay flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, her glasses given way to contacts, "I marched her down to the Hospital Wing myself. Something is clearly wrong and I will not be inconvenienced by a roommate vomiting every chance she gets." Hermione, having lived with Fay for our entire time at Hogwarts chucked at the girl's sarcasm before returning to her meal in silence. The boys, on the other hand, looked nonplussed.

"Hey, Longbottom?" Hermione's eyes shot up. Theo was looking at the boy in question. She didn't know his voice well enough to confirm it was he who had spoken until he continues, "I heard your right good at Herbology." Neville cautiously nodded. Hermione prepared for the biting attack she knew would come. Nott might have been quiet throughout school, but he was still a Slytherin and Neville was, well, Neville. "Mind giving me a hand this year? I somehow ended up in the N.E.W.T. level and I'm woefully unprepared." Neville blubbered out an affirmative answer, and Hermione's jaw fell, "Thanks, man, I'll owe you."

Hermione leaned back on her bench. Not only was Nott asking for help, but he seemed genuinely thankful for it. This was the closest Hermione had ever been to the three Slytherins without her brain whirring for another insult or witty comeback. Malfoy was athletically built with muscular features. His pointed features were muted by his now messy hair. If Hermione hadn't known better she would've thought he had styled it after Harry's, just a tad less shaggy. Over the past few years, his demeanor had gone from smug to lost to something else entirely. Perhaps a quiet confidence? Zabini was built very similarly to Malfoy with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He was as dark as Malfoy was light. The pair seemed comfortable in each other's company, poking fun at Nott's need for help. Though none of the punchlines were directed at Neville, much to Hermione's surprise. Nott looked nothing like his friends. He was soft where the others were sharp, although he was still slender. Nott had mousy, brown hair and light brown eyes. Hermione couldn't help equate him to a child's teddy bear.

The hall quickly filled following Fay, Lavender and Neville's arrival. At seven thirty sharp, a swarm of owls descended on the hall. Most of these owls perched with first years, some drifting to older students. Hermione herself received her copy of the Daily Prophet. Just as she was about to open the paper, Oliver Wood, now Professor Wood, reached the eighth-year table.

"Neville, if you're only taking these three classes I expect great things." Wood chided, handing the boy his question, "And Lavender, please try to apply yourself across the board rather than just in divination. I understand you're only returning for that one class, but you are required to enroll in at least three. Fay, no complaints for you. Hermione," He paused looking at her schedule again, "Are you sure about this? Surely last year _proved beyond doubt_ that you're a _very capable_ witch and that you don't need to take eleven N.E.W.T.S?"

"I don't _need_ to do it, but I _want_ to. Learning on the run leads to deficiencies that could prove vital at some point." She sat up straighter, aware the Slytherins around her were watching her with calculated expressions.

"Yes, I'm sure turning a tea cup into a rat will be essential to your daily life." Wood quipped before he handed the scowling Head Girl her ambitious schedule, "Just, if it gets to be too much, please reach out to me sooner rather than later." She promised and Wood left for the main Gryffindor table.

Left to examine her schedule in peace, Hermione couldn't have been happier with what she saw. A full schedule greeted her, stretching from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. Not to mention the weekly astronomy lessons Tuesday at midnight. She had decided as soon as she was presented with the opportunity that if she was returning to Hogwarts, she was going to do it right. Hermione enrolled in as many N.E.W.T. subjects as the schedule could hold without a time turner, neglecting only Divination. Part of her was thrilled Harry and Ron hadn't returned to Hogwarts, now she could focus on excelling on her own education rather than helping them tread water.

"Mister Malfoy!" Slughorn cheered, "Mister Nott, Mister Zabini. I hope you've all had wonderful summers! Yes, can't wait to see you boys, you men, represent Slytherin in the Quidditch cup! If you need any help with tryouts this weekend please let me know."

"Thank you, Professor." Malfoy drawled, "There is something I mean to speak with you about regarding tryouts. May I speak with you tonight after dinner? Perhaps around eight?"

"Yes! Of course, Mr. Team Captain. Or would you prefer Mr. Head Boy? My, my, your mother would be proud of you!" Slughorn beamed. Hermione couldn't help notice the professor's skirting of Malfoy's father, "On that note! Here is your schedule. All twelve N.E.W.T.S! Very ambitious! Perhaps put off this meeting until later in the week when you are better adjusted?"

"Professor, if it is all the same to you, I promised someone we would have the conversation tonight. If I was to renege on that promise she would never forgive me." Malfoy spoke humbly.

"Oh!" Slughorn squeaked. "Well we wouldn't want to disappoint your lady friend with your deadline so near! Tonight then!" Malfoy balked, "Would you and your lady like to simply have dinner _with_ me in my office? It would save time!" Malfoy agreed, if only to hurry the stout professor on his way.

Much to everyone's pleasure, Malfoy's curt nod did the trick: Slughorn handed the other two boys their schedules and hurried away. It was Zabini who spoke first, interrupting the sought-after silence. "Lady friend. Please do tell, Draco! Who is this lady friend?" His tone was taunting, Hermione knew she was missing something. _He was taking twelve N.E.W.T.S?_

"Lucy?" Nott questioned. Draco nodded, "She's too small to fill any of the positions we need. Maybe a reserve, but she won't see playing time until next year at best." Draco shrugged, "And really Draco? Twelve N.E.W.T.S? You barely survived eleven sixth and seventh years. How'd you just pick one up?"

"I had other worries in the past." Draco rolled his eyes as he folded his schedule to fit into his robe pocket, "And as for the eleventh class, it was something I could no longer put off." His eyes flickered to Hermione and she was certain they were both thinking the same thing: _muggle studies._

"Still, mate." Blaise reproached, "Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Gentleman Friend of Miss Lucy, Twelve N.E.W.T.S?" He scoffed, "You might have to try!"

"I always _try_ , you imbecile." Malfoy smugly smirked, "Whether it's my _hardest_ has yet to be seen." His eyes flicked up, meeting Hermione's. She wanted to look away, really, she did, but something held her in place. _Twelve N.E.W.T.s_? His eyes seemed to twinkle, the blueish flecks catching the light, perhaps. He was taunting her. She never backed down from a challenge. His usually slicked back hair fell casually, as it had during their sixth year, when he had been too busy with other _activities_ to worry about the state of his hair _._ This hair was blonder, less platinum, less like his father's. His features were delicate and at the same time they were masculine. His nose and chin were pointed, aristocratic, but they were accompanied by a strong jaw line with a light dusting a stubble, showing his transition from boyhood to manhood. His shoulders were broad, and his muscles rippled ever so slightly when he moved. Hermione found her eyes drawn to his left forearm where she knew _it_ was. She had heard the mark faded after Voldemort's defeat, but was it still there? Like her own? "And I would appreciate it if you could stop insinuating there is more to Lucy and me than what there is. She's eleven-years-old for Merlin's sake."

As if on cue, a little bundle of energy bounded up to the eighth-year table. Hermione recognized her from the sorting: she was the only girl sorted into Slytherin. She had not been given a last name, but it fell somewhere between Brott and Fisher. _Why hadn't she been given a last name?_ Lucille. Lucy as Malfoy had called her. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with excitement and she clutched a large tome to her chest. _Hogwarts a History: 1998 edition_. Hermione couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. Aside from the different coloring, Lucille reminded Hermione of herself as a first year. Hermione's noise had pulled Lucy's attention to her, "You have a ribbon in your hair just like mine!" Lucy exclaimed, pointing to the emerald green ribbon holding her hair in a high pony tail, "My name is Lucille! What's yours?"

Hermione caught Malfoy tense. The arm he had resting on the young girls him pulled her a bit closer to him as Hermione gave her name. Lucy gave out a dejected _oh_ before she asked Draco to show her where the transfiguration classrooms were.

"That girl has him wrapped around her finger." Blaise chortled, watching his friend carry the little girl's bag out of the hall, with her skipping beside him.

"Blaise, their mothers both asked him to keep an eye on her in light of recent events." Nott scolded silently, Hermione knew she was not supposed to hear.

"Either way," Zabini shrugged, speaking at normal volume, "It's a pity she isn't older, or Draco doesn't have more time. She'd be an excellent wife and an easy solution to his problems. They've been family friends for decades." Hermione wrinkled her nose, what problem could justify marrying off an eleven-year-old?

"Blaise, you know her family's – _station_ – is less than desirable for the Malfoy family." Nott reminded.

Hermione did not hear Zabini's reply as she was already storming off to her potions class. _Less than desirable_. The girl was a Slytherin, so she must be at least a half-blood. Hermione could only imagine what her own _dirty_ blood would be considered by Malfoy and his friends. She had hoped Malfoy had turned over a new leaf over the summer; he had been rather civil to her in their interactions thus far and did not seem to harbor any animosity towards her. But clearly his blood supremacist views were still intact. If the horrors of war hadn't changed Malfoy's views nothing would.

The Head Girl settled into a bench at the front of the classroom, making cheerful conversation with Professor Slughorn until the rest of the class arrived. There were nine students in the class. Hermione sat beside Fay as they were the only two Gryffindors and Hermione knew Fay to be an adequate potions brewer. Hannah Abbot sat at the table behind the Gryffindors with Michael Corner. Terry Boot and Michael Goldstein waited in the bench beside Hermione's. The three Slytherins arrived just in time for the start of class and set up in the very back row, Malfoy at his own table.

Potions would be a breeze this year, Hermione was sure. Hermione had survived five years of Professor Snape's teaching. Compared to the greasy haired teacher, Slughorn would barely scratch the surface. Not to mention, Hermione had brewed most of the potions Slughorn had listed, if not more difficult variations, in the past year to prepare for their horcrux hunt.

"Granger?" A voice called from behind her as she forced her textbook back into her bag, "You coming to Transfiguration?" Theo Nott was asking. Malfoy stood beside the door kicking his boots at the ground and Zabini picked at a stray thread on his tie. Hermione nodded, "Come along then." Hermione crossed the divide between herself and the Slytherins, "Draco, don't be impolite, take the lady's bag."

Draco's head snapped up, shooting a glare at his friend. He took two steps to Hermione and gently lifted her messenger bag from her shoulder, his fingers lightly grazing her collar bone. His forehead wrinkled as he bounced the bag up and down before slinging it over his shoulder, "A featherlight charm?" He asked, apparently bemused. Theo and Blaise were rough housing their way through the halls ahead of them, reminding Hermione painfully of the Weasley twins.

"And an undetectable expansion charm." Hermione tried to sound offhand. She was still upset about his thinking Lucy to be below his status, "Quite simple really, for anyone with any skill that is."

"Of course." Draco nodded. An awkward pause followed and Draco readjusted his own bag, "Anyway, would you like to meet tonight to discuss prefect rounds? After dinner? Seven?"

"I'm sure we'll have quite a bit of work to do by then. I'll be in the library if you care to join." Hermione poked bluntly and sped her walk to join the more amiable Slytherins.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione threw her hands into the air, startling the redhead slouched in the chair beside her own. History of Magic had been horrendous today. Apparently, Professor Binns had decided to make his N.E.W.T.S. class more current. As such, their first unit in the curriculum was the second wizarding war and the rise and fall of the dark lord. Binns insisted it was best to learn while fresh in their memories, Blaise griped that it was a way to pick their brains, Hermione's in particular, to make sure Binns's new book had the best narrative the entire way back to the eighth-year common room.

Exasperated by Lavender's breathless rambling about her first day of school in the common room, Hermione had retreated to the library with her overflowing bag, soon to be joined by Ginny Weasley. Ginny and Hermione had spent most of the summer together, especially when Ron forgot plans he had made with his girlfriend and ended up in the bar instead. Hermione had neverminded being forgotten, though. She would spend the night with Ginny, and in the morning – early afternoon, more realistically – Ron would return with flowers to apologize. She would follow him up to his room, allowing him to collapse onto his bed and curling up between his sprawled limbs. She would lay awake while he snored loudly, his inflated prick poking into her rear.

Ginny's eyebrows rose at Hermione's uncharacteristic display of emotion in her precious library. Hermione explained the new History of Magic curriculum to her oldest girl friend who quickly validated her outrage. "Does Binns have the slightest clue what P.T.S.D. is? There is no way McGonagall knows about this! If she did, Binns would be out on his arse! Hermione, we all lost people during this war and none of us are ready to _study_ it unless in the presence of a psychiatrist."

Hermione chuckled ruefully and unrolled her parchment a bit further, "Binns says if it ever becomes too much for us we should just tell him and report to the hospital wing for counseling services McGonagall mentioned during the Opening Feast. He says it will be a service to us. Plus there are only six of us in the class and only Malfoy and I have a direct connection to today's subject."

"Which was?" Ginny leaned back in her chair, tipping back so the front legs came off the ground and crossing her arms.

" _The pursuit of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's horcruxes and the role of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger._ " Hermione read off her notes from class.

Ginny was off her chair and out of the library before Hermione could utter another word. Harry had always been the ringleader, charging into danger without a second's thought. Ron was the comedic relief and the only one with a magical childhood and the information that entails. Hermione kept the other two from making too big of a mess, insisting on research and planning and doing her best to prevent Harry's foolhardy plan-less actions. Their roles were well documented in the papers and apparently now in textbooks. What no one seemed to realize was Ginny, along with Neville and Luna, had played quiet the role in fighting the war. Ginny operated outside the immediate bubble of the _Golden Trio_ as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been done and in doing so she served as the perfect support. Ginny was always there to help Hermione knock some sense into the boys or to remind Hermione when she was expecting too much from them. Ginny was the protector, always jumping to defend Hermione when girls were mean in the dormitories, Harry when people doubted his truthfulness, and even Ron when Slytherins tormented him. Hermione guessed the fiery redhead was already halfway to Professor McGonagall's office.

"What got Red's panties in a twist?" A drawl startled Hermione out of her thoughts. Draco Malfoy settled himself into the seat across from her.

"She's upset about Professor Binns's choice of material for the first day." Hermione dipped her quill into her ink. Malfoy's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he nodded without further comment, "Well, here is a schedule I created for rounds. It's a bit more intense than past years since we have fewer prefects," _because Slytherin has only two_. Hermione waited a moment before speaking again, "I was looking for your input before I talked to Headmistress McGonagall about it." He arched an eyebrow to indicate he was listening while he continued to scan her schedule, "Slytherin needs prefects, it only has two and is missing six. Perhaps we could enlist Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini? Maybe some of the younger students?"

Malfoy snorted in a very un-Malfoy-like snort, "Theodore Nott? I don't think anyone calls him that except his father when he's cross. Call him Theo. And Blaise, Blaise. Anyway, their immature schoolboys despite their age, you'd be better doubling up on fifth years and recruiting some fourth years." Hermione blinked at his insulting his friends. Apparently pure blood and friendship wasn't enough to save anyone from Malfoy's wrath. "Maybe Astoria Greengrass and Malcolm Baddock. They're fifth years; Tori repeated a year so she wouldn't be alone in her year. Maybe Niles Hanley and Sylvia Melville." Hermione scoffed, "What? They are the top of their classes and I'm sure Slughorn would have recommended them anyway."

"Nothing. I don't know why it surprised me that they're all purebloods."

Draco thought for a moment, "I'm fairly certain Niles is a half-blood and I know for a fact Malcom is a muggle-born. Why would you assume they were all purebloods?" Hermione recounted Theo's comment earlier that morning and Malfoy nodded along. When she finished, he gave her a condescending smile and laughed lightly, "Granger, dear, he didn't mean their 'station' was below mine because of her blood. Lulu is a pureblooded witch from a very powerful and connected family. Theo meant," Malfoy quieted he voice, "Well, he meant, that that power and those connections were unsavory. Her father was one of the inner circle." Draco didn't need to say _of Voldemort's_ for her to understand.

"And you need her to marry you because?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"It's a very long story, Granger." Malfoy seemed to age before her eyes.

"Well, I plan on being here for a very long time, so we have time." Hermione made a show of settling into her seat.

Malfoy appraised the girl across from him. He had had a fascination with Granger from the first time they had met. She was intelligent and kind and loyal. How many times had he insulted her and her friends and yet she sat there being more-or-less civil to him. He dove into a story of some vindictive Malfoy ancestor, who had been rejected by Elizabeth I, enforcing his disappointments in himself on his progeny. Hermione was too busy trying to deduce to which Death Eater Lucy belonged. _Carrow…Crabbe…Dolohov…_ Those were all she could think of, though she was certain there were more.

"So basically, I have nine months to find a woman willing to be my wife and another year after that to marry her." Draco pressed his fist against his forehead as Hermione had notice him do in classes that day when something stumped him.

She felt the urge to comfort her old enemy and spoke softly, "You have nine months! That's long enough to create a human being!" She tried to sound uplifting, "Just put the feelers out in that pureblood world of yours. I'm sure socialites will be tearing down the doors to get to you!"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Granger, if I wanted some mindless cow to sing my praises I would have proposed to the Brown girl you're lucky enough to share a dormitory with. I'll have you know I'd like a little more out of the woman I'm required to spend my life with and who will bear my children." Hermione laughed at his cheap dig into Lavender, she had always been one of Hermione's least favorite people.

"Whenever I'm trying to make a big decision, I like to make a list." Draco was astounded with how well she was taking this pureblood marriage contract nonsense, especially considering her reaction to the potential of a marriage proposal from the Weasel, "So let's think. What are qualities you want in a wife?" Draco sputtered at Hermione's question, "Alright, I'll start. I imagine you want her to be pretty. And a pureblood. And probably from a wealthy or connected family."

His eyebrow climbed his forehead, casting a skeptical gaze on Hermione, "Is that what you think of me? That I want my companion to be pretty, pureblooded and wealthy?"

"You've never given me any reason to think otherwise." Hermione rose a defiant eyebrow.

"Granger, don't most people hope their spouses are at least a bit attractive? And we've seen where that pureblood supremacy got us last time around, so I will happily nix that from your list for me." He stood to leave, "And Granger, I'm already the fifth wealthiest man in Wizarding England with my personal accounts that my parents regularly deposited into throughout my life. Wealth is not a consideration of mine when picking a wife." And he was gone, leaving her alone with Ginny's and her things.

 **A.N.** What did you guys think of all the personalities? I'm trying to stay as close to the books while also accounting for the horrors of war. And thoughts on Hermione and Draco's interactions? Too combative, not enough? Let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.** Hi guys, I know I'm not that regular in posting. I've been going back to rewrite some of the chapters I had finished to better develop some of the relationships and fluff the story up a bit. I would love some feedback, especially since this is my first Harry Potter story and the first story I have written for any fandom since my early teens. I'll be posting regardless of reviews, but they do help encourage and will speed the process along!

Hermione was flabbergasted to say the least. The first few days had been uneventful at best and obscenely boring at the worst. Professors all started class in a similar manner: give condolences for students who had lost loved ones, assure all students that the past was forgotten while lingering on Malfoy, Theo, and Blaise, and scribble on the board the upcoming term's structure. Hermione was obscenely confident as she scanned the topics laid forth by each professor in turn. Aside from Professor Binns's Second Wizarding War unit, which was trying for a whole other host of reasons than she was used to from her school work, not a single topic looked ready to challenge her. Apparently, those job offers imploring her to ignore formal requirements were not entirely wrong: her experiences from the past few years fighting the darkest wizard to walk this earth were sufficient to get her through almost any real-life circumstances. By Wednesday afternoon, however, she was eating her words. Coursework increased in difficulty, not to the point that any singular class was _hard_ , but Hermione now had to devote a fair amount of time to each assignment; cursory work would no longer garner her an Outstanding. In addition to the increased difficulty, the _sheer amount_ of work had her drowning.

Hermione's schedule evolved to accommodate this new workload and this accommodation meant stalking Malfoy around the castle. Her routine was not dissimilar from her previous years, but rather than center around Harry and Ron, it focused on Malfoy, Theo and Blaise, a twist she did not miss the humor of. She began her mornings by joining them for breakfast where the foursome would sit in a happy silence. Blaise would occasionally offer a joke, causing them all to laugh. Nott would pour over his herbology notes, trying to find the difference between toadstool and frogstool and why the wizarding world preferred the toad variety. Malfoy would hide behind his copy of the Daily Prophet, which his personal eagle owl, Aquila, would deliver almost as soon as he sat down. Hermione would nibble at her breakfast and make revisions to essays due later in the week. Almost an hour after the group arrived, the remaining Gryffindors would arrive. Neville would sit beside Theo to help him with his studies, which Theo was incredible thankful for. Hermione always smiled at the unlikely pairing. Fay and Lavender would giggle and gossip together. Although the two were completely different, they had grown up in the same wizarding community and had been the best of friends since they were toddlers. This was why Hermione had always kept Fay at arm's length.

After breakfast each morning, Hermione would follow the Slytherins, specifically Malfoy, to every single class she had. He was in all of them and he did quite well, much to her chagrin. The two had not spoken much since the wife list in the library on the first night except to remind each other of rounds schedules and to ask the other to pass a quill. Draco excelled in potions, which was quite the feat since the late Professor Snape had managed to exert his authority over the creation of the eighth-year curriculum from his portrait in the Headmistress's office. And Snape was never one to disappoint. They were brewing vats of Wiggenweld Potion and Draught of Living Death. Hermione quickly partnered herself with Fay, the only other Gryffindor in the class of nine. Blaise and Theo would partner in the back of the room and the Ravenclaws would huddle together, leaving Malfoy as the odd man out. Usually, the lone student lagged behind the rest of the class, but Malfoy was cruising through potions. Somehow, he managed to shorten the standing time, but the potions still came out perfectly. Slughorn was over the moon that one of his favorite students was doing so well. Hermione knew he was cheating.

After Potions, she would follow Malfoy to transfiguration, then defense against the dark arts. She would sit with them at lunch before going to care of magical creatures where Malfoy and Hermione were two of four students, and then they would finish off their Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule with history of magic. Tuesdays and Thursdays were better for Hermione's sanity. Malfoy and she were evenly matched for charms, she left him in the dust in muggle studies, which she was still shocked he was taking, and she demolished him each day in arithmancy. For lunch and her subsequent free period, Hermione would join Ginny on the grounds to enjoy the last of the summer weather while Malfoy and Blaise went on to divination. Theo would occasionally follow Hermione to her girl dates, reminding her of a lost puppy when he had neither Malfoy nor Blaise. To round out the day, Hermione would rejoin Draco for ancient runes and then astronomy at midnight on Tuesdays.

Hermione was free to escape the Slytherins outside of class, but it proved difficult for several reasons. First, Hermione was forced to spend so much time with the three boys between classes and their living arrangements that it became impractical to find a way away from them. Second, they were intelligent. Hermione often found Draco or Theo quietly scanning her parchment over her shoulder when they thought she wasn't looking. They would then point out the most minute error, _you know, it was Podrick the_ ** _eight_** _not Podrick the_ ** _seventh_** _who found that charm¸ just saying_. Blaise had an entirely difficult approach. Whenever Hermione set down her quill to stretch her hands he would simply grab her parchment and unabashedly read it before scolding her for some stupid error. Usually, this would infuriate Hermione to no end, but she gave as good as she got. The boys, clearly more comfortable asking their friends for academic assistance would venture questions whenever they were uncertain and Hermione always knew the answers. Third, they were fun. Theo and Blaise truly were like the Weasley twins, but rather than using gags and pranks, they used words and wit, a talent that Hermione suspected would be wasted on most Gryffindors. Draco was not unamusing, although he was often silent. He would chuckle at his friends antics and sometimes offer a wry comment. Hermione saw herself becoming friends with Blaise and Theo, if only because they reminded her of her two favorite gingers, while Malfoy really just tagged along.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

In a rare moment without any of her boys Wednesday afternoon, Hermione found herself lounging on the castle grounds with Ginny during their shared lunch hour.

"Please, Hermione!" Ginny begged, lying on her stomach and looking up at the older girl. "You know you'll be seeing him anyway! Just _ask_!"

Hermione's time with the Slytherins had become an object of contention not only between Hermione and Ginny but also between Hermione and Ron. Ginny had witnessed the blooming friendship firsthand as she was the only Weasley left at the castle. She warned Hermione, _"_ _A boy can't be that pretty and that smart and that, well perfect, without hiding something. We know Malfoy is an ex-Death Eater, but what about the other two?"_ Ron on the other hand, learned of the new relationships via Hermione's letters, which she wrote to him daily recapping her day. Naturally, a recount of her day would include those she spent the most time with and at the moment that was the three Slytherins. He was so enraged, he taught himself how to create a howler which had arrived that morning before the Hall had filled. It had hissed and hawed at Hermione over breakfast. She could almost see Ron's ears passing from white to red to purple. " _Hermione! I don't like my girlfriend hanging around with the likes of them! They're death eater spawn! They're going to hurt you! Please! Go find Ginny, or Neville, or Lavender. Or even Luna! I'll even tolerate Luna if it meant you gave up your projects!_ " She could only image what color he would have reached had her heard Blaise's and Theo's retaliatory remarks. Draco, having finally had enough with her boyfriend's voice, caught it in a teacup and trapped it against the table. He returned to his newspaper as if nothing had happened. Harry did not mention her friendship with the Slytherins, she almost worried he hadn't gotten her letters

"Ginny." Hermione sighed. The Scottish sky was clear and the sun shone through. Hermione had finished her Arithmancy assignment well ahead of schedule and was released to enjoy the little bit of free time before her class with Hagrid, "There is no way I can keep up a conversation about _Quidditch_."

"Please, Hermione. Just try!" The red head rolled onto her back and propped up herself up on her elbows. "I only want to know if a lot of people signed up for tryouts."

"Gin, there are twice as many Gryffindors as Slytherins. Plus, you have a returning team! You'll be fine!" The Slytherins were holding their Quidditch tryouts this weekend, a full week earlier than any other team since they had been decimated by the war.

"I know – I just – I'm captain. I don't want any surprises." Ginny lolled her head back to face the sun. The light played on her face to show off a light dusting of freckles across her nose, very similar to the dusting her brother had. Hermione had just begun to relax into the grass, "Will you just ask him?"

Hermione dodged the question by excusing herself to Care of Magical Creatures, which didn't start for another fifteen minutes, but Ginny didn't know that. The head girl made quick work of the path to Hagrid's, having become familiar with it over the years. She hadn't been to visit Hagrid yet this year, she would need to make a point to do so later. As she neared Hagrid's hut, she stopped short. She was not the first to arrive for their lesson. Hagrid stood towering over a slender student with his back to Hermione. Even unable to see his face, there was no mistaking Malfoy with that shock of white-blonde hair. Hermione felt her jaw drop as she saw Hagrid shake Malfoy's arm, Hagrid's version of a handshake. As the two separated, Hagrid going back to shaping a piece of wood and Malfoy flipping open his textbook, Hermione approached.

"Hermione!" Hagrid's black eyes twinkled from beneath his beard. "I though ye'd forgotten about me, ye ran off so quick af'er class."

Hermione told Hagrid all about her schedule for the term and he warned her against over extending herself and against spending time with the Slytherins. This provided a perfect segue into Hermione's question, "Hagrid, why were you shaking Malfoy's hand?"

"'e was apoloizin' for bein' a righ' foul git." Hagrid spoke in his broken accent Hermione had learned to love, "Tol' me if there was anything 'e could ever do to le' him know."

"But you still don't trust him?" Hermione glanced over at the boy she spent most of her day with.

"Ac'ion's speak lou'er than words, Hermione." Hagrid shook his head, before lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "But I ha'e heard 'e helped rebuild Hogwarts af'er the war."

"He was out of the country during the war." Hermione shook her head. There had been many articles in the Daily Prophet about _Death Eater on the Run?_ He had even been featured in one of her muggle magazines when he had attended some award show with an actress the world didn't know was a witch. One thing in her mind was certain, Draco had made his mess during the war, and he had refused to lie in it.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Thursday. Hermione _hated_ Thursdays. Thursdays always seemed to drag the longest. So close to having a weekend to herself to read and write and do whatever else she wanted, and yet so far. And this week more than any other, she needed the weekend. Not even finished with her first week of classes, Hermione had three essays due on Monday, another Tuesday, and two more on Wednesday before she reached the next dreaded Thursday. Despite it only being the third day of classes, Hermione was _exhausted_. There was just so _much_.

Thankfully, Hermione wasn't alone in her struggles. Every time she looked up from her spot at her favorite table in the library, in an alcove with almost entirely windowed walls, Draco Malfoy would be there: tie loosened around his neck, first few shirt buttons undone, left hand fisted in his hair, and right hand fisted, clutching his black quill and bumping his forehead. She could almost hear him thinking in time with his fist: _Work. Work. Work._ Hermione herself was not in much better shape, in fact, their physical conditions were very similar. The only difference being that Hermione kicked off her sensible flats early in the night and braided her hair rather than try to rip it out. This was early in the evening. As the night wore on, both ties were completely shed and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, hiding whatever _might_ still be tattooed on his arm. Hermione often would unbutton her shirt all the way, allowing her camisole to show, but giving her freer movement. Every night, like clockwork, one of two things happened: right after she finished absent mindedly unbuttoning her button-down, Malfoy would appear at her table asking for help or Hermione would catch his fist slip and see the feather of his quill assault his eye and venture over to his table to implore him to call it a night. Her plea never worked and always garnered the same answer "I will when you do Granger." Either way, the encroacher would never return to their original table. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, when Theo and Blaise were with them Hermione and Malfoy could sit together without pretense, but when the jokers were missing the Heads were banished to different tables.

That Thursday night, Hermione sat at her seat, Malfoy nowhere to be seen. " _Wingardium Leviosa."_ Hermione thought, pointing her wand at her quill. _"_ _Wingardium Leviosa."_ Hermione swished and flicked. The feather quivered, but did not rise or flutter.

"Still struggling with nonverbal spells, Granger?" Malfoy had arrived. He whipped out his own wand, brand new since Harry had taken his last year, and her quill went up in flames.

"Hey!" She exclaimed. _Aguamenti! Aguamenti!_ Still, her want did nothing, "That's my favorite quill!"

"Don't think _the spell_." Malfoy instructed, "Think what you want to happen."

 _Water. Water. Put out the fire the mean Slytherin started._ A _woosh_ of water spurted out of the tip of her wand, dousing the quill and putting out the fire. Only a pile of ash remained, "You ruined it!"

Malfoy sighed, "Granger, I would have hoped you thought more of my abilities by now." He flicked his wand before tucking it away. The ash jumped and shifted and suddenly it reformed into the quill.

"It better write the same." Hermione grabbed the pen protectively.

"I'm sure it will, Granger." He laughed settling into the seat across from hers.

"I – You're sitting with me?" He brow knit together.

"I figured we'd drop the foreplay and just sit together." His wording made her squirm uncomfortably as he dropped a stack of textbooks onto the table, "It's going to be a long night."

They went back to silence. Hermione was itching to settle her feet on his seat, she always rested her feet on the seat across from her, but she assumed that would be too forward. Imagine Draco Malfoy's reaction to Hermione Granger resting her feet in his lap. She chuckled she decided he would not light anymore of her things on fire, she went back to trying to wordlessly levitate small objects about the table. He had moved on from their Charms work and was instead pouting at his parchment. Hermione tried to crane her neck to see the words on his page. _On average, muggles use…_

"Ow!" Malfoy yelped, "What the bloody hell, Granger?" Malfoy held his forehead, just above his left eye, "I thought we had moved passed trying to harm each other!" That's when she noticed the little paper weight she had been levitating on his book.

"Oh my god! Malfoy, I'm so sorry!" She silently summoned the weight back to her side of the table and into her bag, "I was trying to see what you were reading because I didn't recognize the book beside you and you looked so confused so I thought I could help and I was curious…"

"Granger," Malfoy cut her off, smirking, "You're babbling again. I meet with Professor Figg once every few days for additional instruction."

"Oh." Hermione was shocked enough that Malfoy was taking Muggle Studies to begin with, but that he was subjecting himself to more sessions with Professor Figg? Harry had always made her sound like a terrible person to have one-on-one time with, "I – I thought you dropped that class sixth year."

"I did." Malfoy sat back, still rubbing at his forehead. _Drama Queen_. "But I, well, I'm trying to _fix_ the damage my father did. How could I do it if I didn't learn more about the thing he hated. I figured muggles couldn't be all bad, some of Blaise's step fathers were muggles and they weren't that bad. So I decided to take up the class and Professor Figg agreed to give me extra tutoring."

"Oh, well if you need help," Hermione started, "I'm always here."

"What the hell is a Tamagotchi?" Draco immediately asked, throwing his arms into the air, "It's an egg thing but the picture mores but muggle don't have moving pictures."

Hermione smiled before explaining the new muggle fad to him. His nose crinkled in confusion, but accepted her description. She decided she would have to get ahold of one to show him. The two were laughing about a story Hermione's younger neighbor had told her about the toy getting upset when it wasn't taken to the bathroom often enough when a small Slytherin girl appeared at Draco's shoulder. Hermione recognized the girl. _Lucille Carrow_. _Lucille Crabbe. Lucille Dolohov. Which one, which one._ She smiled at the younger girl, but the girl just looked at her with skeptical eyes. Accepting she was not a part of this conversation, Hermione turned her work to her Ancient Runes scroll.

"Lulu, She's the Head Girl. She wouldn't do anything like that to you." Draco was quietly coaxing the girl, "If they're in her house she'll have more sway with them than I ever would." The girl flicked away a small tear from her cheek, "Fine. I won't tell her. Can I at least properly introduce you? You dragged me away before I could the other morning." Hermione pretended not to hear until she was addressed, "Hermione," Her eyes shot up, he had used her first name, "This is Lucille, but she goes by Lucy. She's the only female first year in Slytherin. And tomorrow evening she's trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team." Hermione gawked at the warm look of pride in Malfoy's eyes as he looked at the girl, who only came up to his shoulder despite her standing and his sitting.

"Hi Lucy." Hermione smiled warmly, offering Lucy her hand, "My name's Hermione Granger." He girl briefly touched her hand, but did not linger long, "Is there anything I can help you with tonight?" The girl's eyes grew panicked. She looked at Draco quickly before scurrying off, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." Malfoy breathed. He leaned back in his chair and watched her fleeing figure, "She – she's so _young_. I was surprised when she decided to come to Hogwarts. I honestly might put her on the team even if she's terrible so she'll have some older friends to watch out for her. The boys in her class haven't figured out the Slytherin way yet."

His comment brought several questions to her mind, the least pressing of which being Ginny's from earlier that day. _Which death eater?_ If Hermione was being honest with herself, she would have noticed the girl looked an awful lot like Andromeda. _Bellatrix? Merlin save her._ "Who are her parents?"

Draco let out another sigh, "She's trying to keep people from knowing, but refuses to change her last name so teachers just don't use it. I'm worried they're going to slip one of these days. If she's pressed, she goes by her mother's maiden name, but that's not really much better. It's only three days into term and students are already harassing her." Seeing the look on her face, "I know you heard her tell me not to tell you. I'll take care of it." Her face shifted, "In a way befitting a Head Boy. Next question, I'm sure there are more."

"What on earth is the 'Slytherin way?'" She blurted.

Malfoy went on to paint a beautiful picture of supportive Slytherins being unjustly persecuted by the rest of the wizarding world. He described it as no one else would look out for them so they had to look out for each other. Hermione thought it was brainwashing the younger students to cover for the older ones, but she did not voice her thoughts. Satisfied with answers to her two questions, Hermione let the conversation lull and both Heads turned back to their respective work, Malfoy trying to figure out the differences among a toaster, an oven and a toaster oven and Hermione trying to translate the Aeneid into Ancient Runes.

"So, excited for tryouts tomorrow?" Hermione slyly glanced up at Malfoy.

"You can tell the Weaslette that people signed up and we will be able to form a team this year." He didn't miss a beat and continued to flip back and forth between pages trying to understand the different appliances.

"Geez, Malfoy, I was just making small talk." Hermione covered.

"It's really a miracle you survived last year on the run." He stated flippantly, "First off, we might not have been best of friends since first year like you, the Weasel and Potter, but we did know of each other. Only a complete idiot wouldn't have realized you despise brooms and anything associated with them, Quidditch included. And I think we both know I'm not a complete idiot. Second, we have the same schedule, I heard her _begging_ you to ask when I walked by to get to class. And third, you blush when you lie." She felt her face grow hotter, "Yes, like that. So please, just report back to Ginevra that, yes, there will be a Slytherin team and no, Malfoy is not nervous. Can we please get back to work now? Remind me not to sit with you again. So distracting. Merlin." What Draco didn't say, however, was that Hermione distracted him even when she was quiet and even when they were at different tables.

Hermione couldn't help the burst of giggles that tore from her mouth. Malfoy looked at her like she had finally gone bonkers, "Remember how you laughed at me for calling Theo, Theodore? Not even Ginny's mother calls her Ginevra. It would take a transgression of massive proportions to reach that level of anger." Malfoy rolled his eyes and returned to her work.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Only one day left to this week," Hermione chanted to herself as she got ready that morning. Hermione went through classes with a piece of muggle paper in her pocket. Here and there she would lift the paper out, smooth it out on her desk and jot down another task for her to complete over the weekend. _Practice_ _nonverbal magic. Spend time with Ginny. Outline Potions argument. Send an owl to Ron. Finish Ancient Runes translation. Send an owl to Harry. Write account of the journal horcrux. Check for notifications in Australia. Transfiguration essay._

"Hermione." Ginny scolded. Hermione had given her Malfoy's response, "You weren't supposed to _tell_ him you were asking for me." The brunette rolled her eyes and continued riffling through a book, hoping it contained what she wanted, "And don't give me that 'I didn't tell him' you didn't deny it." Suddenly, Ginny's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I guess you'll have to come with me to stake out tryouts. You need to make it up to me."

Despite her best efforts to evade the redhead, Hermione was dragged from the Great Hall down to the Quidditch pitch before she could finish her pudding. The entire way down the rocky path Ginny had her arm wrapped through Hermione's holding her in place, all the while trying to soothe her. "It's only the first week." She said, "It's Friday night, you need to have some fun." She ignored Hermione when the dark haired girl refuted Quidditch being fun.

The Quidditch stadium was as empty as either girl had ever seen it. Only a handful of spectators were in the stands, few more were on the pitch. There was a cluster, no larger than twenty Slytherins. "Good. This is good." Ginny muttered, resting her elbows on her knees and steepling her fingers in front of her mouth. By that she meant it was bad for the Slytherins. Hermione settled into the bench and pulled out her transfiguration scroll. "There are only eighteen trying out. Thirteen of those are under fourth year. No matter what skills they have or how many they take, the team will be physically small. They need at least four. Probably aim to take seven or eight."

Three larger boys, from Hermione's perch they looked like full-grown men, stalked out from the changing room below the stands. A talk blonde led the trio with two brunettes following behind on either side. Draco made no acknowledgement of the small group of onlookers as he informed the contestants of what he needed: at least one Chaser to work with Nott and Blaise, at least two Beaters and at least one Keeper. He wanted speed and precision, the captain said. And then he set them to work, flying laps around the pitch.

Hermione thanked the heavens she had managed to grab her school bag before Ginny had dragged her off. Disinterested in the flying, Hermione let her gaze fall to her transfiguration essay. _If left in that condition too long, thought to be three days, two hours, and fifty-two minutes, the subject would be forever stuck as a table. It is my hypothesis, that the use of a beezledorf salve could reverse this effect. Through this…_

"Shit." Ginny muttered causing the brunette to look up, "Look at her go." Hermione followed Ginny's gaze. A young girl had arrived late to tryouts and was working to catch up with the pack, still flying their laps. _Look at her go indeed._ Hermione watched her as she lapped the group, once, twice, a third time. "She caught up to them. Record speed." Hermione peeled her gaze away from the rocket to look down at the eighth years. Nott and Zabini had smiles stretching ear to ear. Malfoy's expression was perfectly blank. Hermione had recognized Lucy the first time she flew over the two Gryffindors.

Hermione shook her head. Transfiguration. That's what she had to do. Who cared if Lucy's laps were mesmerizing or if Malfoy looked good in his Quidditch uniform. _Through this method the length of time a person could remain as an inanimate object…_

"Where the bloody hell is he going with her?" Ginny sat up straight, craning her neck to follow Malfoy and the girl out of the stadium. "Nott is running tryouts? What the-" The redhead calmed herself, "It's fine. They'll definitely take her, but she'll be a chaser. She probably can't shoot accurately going that fast. Plus she's tiny, she can't push through a defense."

"Ginny," Hermione admonished her friend, "As fun as this is, I really need to get going. Please? I have three paper proposals due next Friday and I really must get a jump on them."

Ginny grunted her dismissal, eyes re-glued to tryouts.

Hermione climbed down the rickety stairs of the Stadium. The slope up to the castle was always worse than the slope down to the pitch. She grunted as she forced one foot in front of the other. Laughing in the distance caught her attention. On the far side of the Black Lake, in a small clearing, were two figures. The smaller of the two was floating in the air, certainly on a broomstick. It flew back and forth across the clearing. The larger figure had a shock of blonde hair, its arm flicking up and down. Hermione's quidditch knowledge might have been limited, but in the past week she had grown to understand many of Malfoy's motivation and, as such, she knew exactly what the pair was doing across the lake.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

When Hermione returned to the eighth-year common room after a few hours in the deserted library, Lavender was being pleasant. That was a first. The four eighth year Gryffindors sat around the fire in their common room, sipping at wine Fay had smuggled in through the post and enjoying the treats the house elves had sent up, much to Hermione's displeasure. They spent their evening reminiscing about their early years at Hogwarts. Fay made fun of Neville's tendency to lose Trevor. Lavender poked at Fay's two left feet. Neville laughed at Lavender's obsession with Divination. he

The Slytherins came in a little past one, clearly in good spirits. Zabini and Nott had reddened checks, probably from the wind while they flew. Despite the rash, the two had smiles plastered across their face. Malfoy had a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips and an _I-know-something-you-don't-know_ edge flickering in his grey eyes. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him that she did, in face, know.

"Happy with your team, snakes?" Fay called out, not looking up from the deck of cards she was shuffling. Fay was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team and served as Ginny's second. She was upset she could not attend tryouts with Ginny, but it was the only time Flitwick could provide her with extra help with her charms work.

"Always happy, Dunbar." Nott sauntered over to the back of her chair, "Got a full team if you must know."

"Theo." Malfoy's eyes bored into his friend's back, "I think we should leave the lions to their games. We have more important things to tend to." Nott hesitated at his perch, but quickly retreated to his friends and followed the others down the Slytherin stairs.

After an hour of Exploding Snap, Neville excused himself, citing an early session with Professor Sprout the next morning. Fay followed him up the stairs; she had Quidditch practice for the returning Gryffindor team the next afternoon, leaving Hemione alone with Lavender.

"Hermione." Lavender's voice was soft as her Hermione crossed the room to inspect the bookshelves. Now that it was just the two of them, Hermione was certain the fun was over. "I, um, I have some news I need to share with you." Hermione turned from the bookshelves and looked at her roommate with doe-like eyes, "I- I- uh, I'm pregnant, Hermione." Hermione dropped the book she was holding and looked down at the other girl's stomach, "I'm four months along – I know! I barely show! – Madam Pomphrey thinks it's a baby girl. She wasn't able to see all that well and it _is_ early, but she said she'd put a galleon or two on it." Lavender was bubbling with joy.

 _Malfoy had said, this was a tradition of purebloods. They have children young, get married even younger. That's how they get broods like the Weasley's. It's really a miracle there weren't more of them._ "Who's the father, Lavender? Did he survive the war?"

"He _did_. Our baby was conceived a couple weeks after the Battle." She let out a catlike smile. "But I'd rather not say his name. He doesn't even know yet!" Her giggle turned into a yawn. "I better get to bed. This little one will keep me wide awake in a few months."

Hermione gave her one final smile before settling into a chair for a bit of light reading and thinking before she turned in. _Lavender was pregnant? What pore sap had she cornered?_ Hermione's ears were ringing. If it had been she who had gotten pregnant during her schooling she would have been a puddle of tears, but Lavender seemed thrilled at the prospect of being a teen mother. Hermione and Ron had always been incredible careful. Well, _she_ was incredibly careful, using both a charm and her daily potion. Apparently, Lavender had missed that portion of Professor McGonagall's health talk before the Yule Ball.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

 _The blonde girl lit up with green and fell like a marionette who had had its strings cut. Then the boy with ruddy red hair. A breath later, the offending wand turned on Ron. "NO! No no no no. Please take me!" I pled, tied to the large rock in the Hogwarts courtyard._

 _"_ _The only thing worse than a Mudblood, Mudblood, is a Blood Traitor." Bellatrix snarled. The jet of green extended from her wand straight to Ron's chest. The electricity cackled and Ron slumped to the ground. Dead._

 _Granger! Granger!_ "Granger!" Her body shook. She was drenched in sweat, there was no way she was falling back to sleep. She tried to flail, but strong arms held her in place. It took a moment for her eyes to focus on the panicked grey in front of her. "Merlin, Granger, you sure know how to scare a guy." Malfoy's face was only centimeters from her and he was shirtless.

"Wh-What time is it?" Hermione tried to right herself in her seat. She must have fallen asleep reading. Malfoy leaned back and answered her. _Only four. Perfect._ Hermione flicked her wand to freshen her face and magic her hair up into a loose bun in hopes of containing the rats nest that perpetually hung from her scalp. "I guess I'm up for the day. Why are you here?"

"Healthcare plans. I didn't even realize you were down here until you started shrieking like a banshee." Malfoy let out a heavy breath, returning to the quad of seats in the small alcove. Hermione stretched before pulling herself up and walking over to join him. "It has come time to renew or change plans for our muggle division over in the United States. Americans," he grumbled, "Why don't they just adopt universal healthcare. Oh right, because then I wouldn't be making top dollar." He muttered at the papers, sneering. She didn't think she was supposed to hear that last part. Hermione knew that Malfoy Apothecary had muggle branches, but she didn't realize they fell under Draco's purview. She supposed it must with his father imprisoned with the rest of his cronies and his mother, well, she didn't know what had happened to his mother. "But it's particularly hard since I don't _know_ about muggle healthcare. Much less _American_ muggle healthcare."

"I, um, I could take a look." Hermione offered, climbing into the armchair across from him.

"Be my guest." He grunted, picking up the book she had been reading earlier in the night. " _Classic Fairytales_. Hm. Interesting Granger."

"One of my favorites is in there." She said only half paying attention since she was already deep into the world of copays and deductibles and the like.

"I bet I could figure out which one that is." The cocky tone tinged Malfoy's voice like old times. Malfoy set to work reading muggle fairytales while she looked through the different plans. If someone told her a year ago she would be sitting by a fire at four in the morning with a shirtless Draco Malfoy reading muggle fairytales she would've contacted St. Mungo's to alert them to their newest psychiatric ward.

Pages upon pages later she turned to him, "Well, this plan is the least expensive." She handed him a packet detaining a very cheap healthcare plan that only covers very specific ailments which no one actually had.

"But which one would you go with?" He asked. He had set aside the fairytale book almost an hour ago, having breezed through the child-accessible language. He had been watching her weigh his options ever since.

"Well, if I could cut into my profit a bit," She watched his face for a reaction, there was none, "I would go for this one." She handed the more expensive option that provided for beneficiaries and access to a range of doctors and treatments.

"Thank you, Granger." He looked over both the plans the girl had handed him before picking up all of them and going to leave the room.

"You never told me?" He turned and cocked his eyebrow, "Which was my favorite."

He quirked a smile up at me, "Guess you'll just have to wait and see who wins that bet."


	6. Chapter 6

She always woke up earlier than her roommates, one of which was now more than halfway through her pregnancy, usually due to nightmares. By the end of the second week, Hermione had become comfortable around Blaise and Theo, by the end of the third week, her skin stopped prickling whenever Malfoy drew near. It was only a natural progression now that they spent dawn past dusk together. It was now a habit that she ate breakfast in the snake pit, to Blaise's right. Blaise flirted harmlessly with her, and anything else in a skirt, any chance he got. Theo was friendly and surprisingly open for a Slytherin, particularly one whose father was one of the original death eaters. Malfoy barely spoke to her at these morning meetings, but every night they studied together at the same table, it made sense since they would be taking all the same N.E.W.T.S. At breakfast, she would observe the three boys eat like _civilized_ human beings, still something that was unfathomable to her. B _oys, my age, eating with manners._ Her time with Ginny was limited. Apparently, Ginny and Fay had gone to one of the Slytherin quidditch practices and what they saw worried them. The pair created a five-practices-a-week schedule for their team. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell them the Slytherins practiced six days a week and endured a team work out every morning before Hermione joined them for breakfast. Hermione had no clue how Draco was doing it: run, breakfast, three classes, lunch, two classes, dinner, practice all days except Sunday, study with Hermione, astronomy on Tuesday, run a trans-continental business, manage an enormous family estate. She was about to collapse and all she had to do was manage eleven courses.

"Eh hm." Headmistress McGonagall called the room to attention, "On behalf of the staff of Hogwarts, I have a decision to share with you. The Halloween Feast, set to be held two weeks from tomorrow evening, will be canceled." A ruckus ensued, but the Headmistress simply spoke over the din, "It has become abundantly clear that Hogwarts's house system, particularly the dining situation, promotes segregation which was more than likely a contributor to the war we just fought. To combat this shortcoming, we will implement events and policies to promote school unity. The inter-house eighth year table is one of those actions. In this spirit, students years four and under will be invited to a feast in the Dungeon Hall. For fifth year students and above, in place of the Halloween Feast, we will have a _ball_." The noise in the hall shifted, no longer outraged, although the younger students were a bit miffed, "The ball's purpose will not only be to celebrate the holiday it is held on, but also to honor those who fought or fell during the War. We will be allowing non-students to attend. If you wish to bring such a person, please submit your request to me, in writing, no later than one week from tomorrow. This weekend and the next will both be Hogsmeade weekends, allowing you all a chance to find proper attire."

The hall was abuzz for the rest of breakfast. The girls were squealing and giggling, certainly over dresses and dates. Most of the boys, however, looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of finding dates. The eighth-year table, however, remained quiet. Hermione was lucky, she had a boyfriend who was also a war hero and would _never_ miss a chance to flaunt that status. Over the summer, he had taken to holing up in bars to tell war stories anyone who would listen. Her classmates were in a different situation. Neville would probably ask Hannah, Hermione had caught their secret glances and hidden smiles, if he plucked up enough courage. Fay would easily find someone and Lavender would go with or without a date. So many Ravenclaws returned that the eighth years would have no trouble mingling among themselves and with the younger years. The Slytherins would have the hardest time finding dates. The sixth and seventh years were missing and the younger grades were very male heavy, with only ten females left in the entire house. _Perhaps they would invite someone from outside Slytherin?_ Hermione decided that was unlikely as the rest of the houses still held a silent, and in some cases not-so-silent, resentment for the green robed students. _Maybe someone from outside the school?_ Hermione snapped herself from her thoughts. Who the Slytherins asked was none of her business. She flicked her wand, conjuring her Patronus, a merry little otter, to ask Ron if he could attend. She noticed Malfoy's eyes on her, "An otter? Really?"

"What's yours? A ferret?" This had become a part of their daily routine: slightly caustic banter.

"I'm not actually sure," His lips turned down ever so slightly on his otherwise unreadable face, "I never had the need." Hermione found that difficult to believe. Patronus's were most effective to combat dementors, but they also served a more mundane purpose, communication. It was hard for Hermione to swallow, that Draco Malfoy as intelligent as he was had not figured out the intricate piece of magic. At the very least he could have lorded it over his gang.

Before Hermione could devote more time to figuring out why Malfoy never learned to cast a patronus, Ron's Jack Russel Terrier scampered into view, drawing the attention of Fay and Lavender. The little dog playfully nuzzled Hermione's ear as Ron's voice spoke through it. He confirmed he would be in attendance and informed her they would be the center of attention. Professor McGonagall had not mentioned that the ball was to honor _them_ : her, Ron and Harry, along with some others whose service during the war was indispensable. The ghostly dog nipped at her ear before jumping across the table to lick Fay's nose and then gently headbutt the side of Lavender's belly. The patronus ran up the table, straight at Malfoy, evaporating into thin air just before it made contact with the blonde. Malfoy grumbled about the foolish dog, but Theo and Blaise chortled at his side.

Once the laughter died down, the three boys huddled together to debate. Hermione tried to eavesdrop, but these boys, unlike her other two back home, knew how to control their volumes. She was forced to listen to Lavender fret about finding a dress to fit her growing stomach. The girl was near tears when she turned to Hermione, "Hermione? Could you charm a dress for me?"

Hermione's mouth hung open. She assumed she could, there must be a charm out there somewhere. But with her overloaded schedule, Hermione wasn't sure she would have time to find herself a dress, much less find a charm for Lavender and help her alter her own dress. Out the corner of her eyes, she saw Malfoy's silver eyes flick from Theo to her, "Granger, let's go. We need to talk to McGonagall about what she expects from us for the ball."

She had never been more grateful for Malfoy as he led her out of the Grand Hall in search for the professor who had left after her announcement. Hermione followed him outside onto the steps of the castle where he leaned against the bannister. The signs of winter were appearing all throughout the grounds. With every new morning, a dusting of frost graced each blade of grace. There was a sharp bite in the air, causing Hermione to huddle deeper into her cloak.

"McGonagall's not here…" Hermione looked around, half expecting the headmistress to jump from behind a gargoyle.

"She found me before breakfast. You'll come in with the war heroes and participate in the first dance. Then I will take you from the Weasel and you and I will open the ball for other students to join with McGonagall and Dumbledore's brother." _Aberforth was coming?_ He rattled off, "Now, would you mind explaining to me why the Brown twit gets under your skin so much?" Hermione took up a spot beside him and, refusing to look at him, recounted Ron's infatuation with Lavender and how that grew into a relationship their sixth year. After her story, Malfoy spoke slowly, "So you're afraid he'll leave you for her?"

"Not exactly," She trailed, "It's more knowing that he's my first for almost everything and I don't think I'm his for anything thanks to her." She couldn't believe how candid she was being with a boy not three months ago she had considered an enemy. She had been tortured on his foyer floor only five months ago.

"Well," Malfoy sighed, "The Weasel can't undo the past, but he'd be an utter fool to ever go back to her. If he ever left you for her, hell would freeze over. No one, not even the Weasel, gets to insult _The Hermione Granger_ in such a way in this new world order." He bumped his shoulder into hers with a small smile on his face.

He was being friendly and that brought a genuine grin to her face. They settled into their spots against the banister to take in the almost-winter scenery before retreating to the dungeons for potions with their arms just barely touching. It was chilly, even for mid-October in the Scottish Highlands, but Hermione was not cold. Malfoy and she had built up a comradery of sorts over the past two months, but her continuously shoving her foot in her mouth had prevented them from becoming friends. Maybe this, the two of them standing in comfortable silence, drawing on each other's body heat, was the beginning of a real friendship.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Fay! No!" Hermione shouted, lunging forward in a vain attempt to intercept the bloodroot from falling into the potion. Their previously-perfect essence of dittany combusted in the cauldron. _Bloodroot wasn't supposed to be added until after the incubation period._ A shoot of fire exploded from the vat, encompassing Fay's outstretched arm. Fay was so stunned she didn't scream.

"Miss Dunbar please come with me right now!" Slughorn bustled down the aisle of desks, "Miss Granger, please work with Mr. Malfoy." No sooner had he barked his command, still in his ever-cheerful voice, than he was gone, pulling Fay to the hospital wing.

"Hannah, I'll be back, I need to go see after Fay." Hermione left her station to follow the injured student, but a strong hand grasped her bicep, jerking her to a standstill. She looked down at the muscular arm, then chiseled chest, then surprisingly comforting face.

"She'll be fine, Granger." Malfoy's voice was soft, quiet, only for her to hear. He pulled her closer to him, if they had been friends, she would have described her new position against his chest. Her cheek was just a whisper from his chest, his hand now ghosting over her arm. She sighed, gazing longingly at the door, "I saw it in time, I managed a _protego_. She should have minor burns at most, probably be back before we head to transfiguration." Hermione looked at the boy for a moment. He was so close to her that she had to crane her neck to look into her eyes. His face was soft, his gray eyes welcoming. This was unfamiliar to her, she was the comforter, she was not comforted, only Harry had ever tried. He held her close to his chest, she could feel the warmth radiating off of him like earlier outside the entrance hall and finally allowed a wave of comfort to calm her. Hermione nodded her head and walked around him to the unoccupied seat, his hand staying on her upper arm to guide her into place beside him. She climbed onto her stool and he dropped his hand. Hermione felt the coldness of the dungeon encompass her now that his hand was gone. She let out an involuntary shiver and wished she had opted for her heavier robes.

Pushing her discomfort aside, Hermione glanced down at the cauldron, silently simmering through incubation. Malfoy was _smart_. She had always known it, but working with him over the past month and a half had made it abundantly clear. The boy was quick on his feet and clever beyond anything she had ever thought to attribute to the Slytherin. One late night in the library she, completely frazzled with hours left to work, looked up at him, completely calm reclining and reading the fairy tale book she had found the first week. After the first week, Hermione had continued to struggle to produce perfect assignments while Malfoy started to breeze through quicker and quicker. It frustrated Hermione to no end that she would put in twice as much work and receive the same marks as he did. When Malfoy asked what could possibly be taking her so long she gestured at the piles of work they had both been assigned. He then offered her advice that she believed summed up his entire personality: _don't work_ _ **hard**_ , _work_ _ **smart**_ _, don't do something one way if there is a_ _ **better**_ _way._ This mantra rang true with his potion making. He cut corners and altered steps, but the potion remained perfect.

"How on earth do you know how to do this?" Hermione exclaimed. Exasperated when Malfoy substituted beetle intestines for beetle dung.

"It's in the book." He rolled his eyes playfully, "To brew a potion you really just need to follow along."

"But you don't follow along," She clarified, "You bob and weave, throwing rules to the wind."

He concentrated on his stirring so that he could delay answering her question. _One stir clockwise, three counterclockwise._ Draco was sore on this particular subject seeing as to what had happened to the man, "Snape is – Snape _was_ my godfather. He taught me everything he knew, and he knew quite a bit."

Hermione sensed the shift in mood and attempted to ease the tension that had settled on their work station, "So are you Half Blood Prince junior then?" He looked at her with a strange look, before letting a small smile bud on his lips.

"I suppose." He chuckled, "That's how he would sign all the books he gave me, you know, he'd write a little message and sign it as The Half Blood Prince. It was his mother's maiden name."

"I know." Hermione offered him a small smile, pleased that he was opening up. Hermione could now see the messy scrawl on the pages of his book. It was the same writing she had seen in Harry's book sixth year. "He was a good man."

"He was." Malfoy finished the conversation, but almost silently he stated, "He was more of a father to me than Lucius ever was and I couldn't even attend his funeral."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Who are you going to bring to the ball, Draco?" Theo asked without looking up from the broom he was re-taping.

"Do I have to go?" Draco scoffed and rubbed his freshly-showered hair with a towel.

"Heads share a dance at all the balls. You know that." Blaise taunted, "Think Granger managed to learn the waltz while on the run?" Draco shot him a grimace. He didn't like when they poked fun at Granger, even if in a playful manner. It reminded him of years past when the jokes were caustic and intended to inflict as much pain as possible on their subject. Each time she was the butt of a joke, Draco felt his stomach plummet. He was trying to change, to redeem his family name. Making fun of the wizarding world's golden girl would not help that goal.

"What about Astoria Greengrass?" Theo posed.

"She came back?" Blaise's eyebrows raised, "Her sister's dead. She died in the _fucking_ Great Hall."

Draco nodded, "She's going to be a prefect in a couple weeks, too." Blaise looked insulted he hadn't been selected to fill the void of Slytherin prefects. "Our fathers had been in talks for a marriage between Daphne and myself. I've been told Astoria's hoping that discussion transfers to her now despite my father being locked up and hers being dead. If I invite her she'll never let it go." Draco snorted, "Remember when we could've had any girl we wanted."

"Except Granger." Blaise joked.

"Except Granger." Draco repeated. He sighed, "Here's the plan: Blaise, you bring Astoria. She's the only Slytherin girl old enough to attend. The boys in her year are atrocious, she'll need a date. Theo, bring the that Ravenclaw you're so infatuated with. Ask them at breakfast." Draco threw his towel on the laundry pile and slammed his locker shut.

"What about you?" Theo asked.

"Sarah?" Malfoy called, the fourth year peered around the row of lockers that separated the eighth years from the other players, "Want to go to the ball?" The girl nodded and ran back to the rest of the team, giggling the whole way. Theo raised an eyebrow at his young choice, "She repeated a year, so she's almost sixteen. Plus, she's a friend of Astoria's. If we're lucky the two of them will be so enthralled with each other we'll be left alone." Draco stood and strode from the locker room.

"He could have her if he wanted." Theo looked at his foreign friend who was very confused by the sudden declaration, "Granger, that is."

"Mate, have you lost your mind?" Blaise's eyes widened, "She's _Hermione_ fucking _Granger_ , Gryffindor Princess, War Heroine, Potter's Best Friend, soon to be Mrs. Weasel."

"Want to make a bet?" The Italian remained silent, "He'll have her by graduation. Fifty galleons."

"You're on. Easiest fifty galleons I'll ever make."

They clasped hands, solidifying their wager.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, beating Ginny into the boy's arms.

Her kissed the top of Hermione's head and shifted her to his side making room for his fiancé. Ginny quickly filled the opening, peeking up onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. Hermione took a step back to allow the couple to hold each other for the first time in months.

Hermione and Ginny had spent their first Hogsmeade weekend in the Village searching for dresses. Ginny found her dream dress in the very first shop they entered. The dress was an emerald green, that would draw out Harry's eyes, with a sweetheart neckline. The bust cinched tight around her before billowing into a full skirt. And best of all, Ginny declared, _it's on sale!_ Hermione's dress would prove harder to find.

By the time the second weekend rolled around, the Hogsmeade dress selection was heavily picked over. Most girls were griping about having such the limited selection or, even worse, that their _mothers_ sent them terribly outdated dresses. Luckily, Hermione was not the brightest witch of her age for nothing. The Friday before their second Hogsmeade weekend, Hermione sought out Headmistress McGonagall and easily gained permission to side-along apparate Ginny and herself to Diagon Alley for the next two days. Meanwhile, Ginny was sending owls to Harry and Ron for them to meet them Sunday afternoon for a casual double date. They were both overjoyed when Harry agreed to join, but Hermione's happiness was quick doused when Ron declined because of his training schedule.

 _"_ _I'm already taking next weekend off for you!" Ron had complained through the floo, only his head visable._

 _"_ _Ron, please don't make it sound like I'm forcing you to the ball." Hermione sighed, "You're invited in your own right."_

At five past noon on Sunday, Hermione found herself third wheeling on two of her closes friends, a feeling she was all too familiar with. To their credit, Harry and Ginny did their best to conceal their kisses from her. By the third dress store, it was abundantly clear that Hermione was in no way their focus so she banished them to go have a proper date. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if they had only beelined to a room in the Leaky Cauldron.

After exhausting her usual haunts on the Main Alley, Hermione resigned herself to making the trek up to the High Alley. Hermione often did her best to avoid the High Alley shops, they were where the wealthiest wizards shopped. If anywhere would have a dress for her, it would be on the High Alley. She turned the corner to begin her climb but she was knocked off course by a body exiting a shop. She hastily apologized, turning to see her assailant. "Not a problem, Granger." Malfoy's smirk pulled up at his lips, "You can bump into me any day."

Hermione scowled at him, "You're beginning to sound like Zabini." He feigned hurt before falling into step behind her, "What are you even doing here, Malfoy?"

"I had a few errands to run on the Alley so McGonagall gave me permission. I'm on my way to Twilfitt and Tattings to pick up my dress robes. I need to look the part if I'm going to dance with _the_ war heroine." Hermione nodded, stating that was her destination as well and ignoring his Zabini-esque attitude. It seemed as good a place to start as any. The two walked up the gentle slope side by side, making light conversation.

The shop was small, squeezed between an upscale restaurant and what Hermione assumed to be a fancy quidditch store. Malfoy held the door open for her. A tinkling bell alerted the small witch behind the counter of their arrival. "Mr. Malfoy, a pleasure as always. Just one moment and I'll get your order." The grey-haired woman turned to Hermione, "And Ms. Granger, I do believe this is a first for you in my shop. Please feel free to browse I'll be right with you."

Hermione turned her attention to the racks upon racks of well-made dresses, stretching as far as the eye could see. The woman quickly produced Malfoy's order and sent him on his way. Malfoy had other ideas, apparently, as he settled on a chair near the dressing rooms to watch Hermione's fumble through the dresses. Twilfitts was organized in a way entirely different from most dress stores, Draco knew. Watching Granger, he thought, would be fun.

"What are you doing?" Hermione paused.

"Well, if you must know, Granger, I'm not quite ready to go back onto the Alley." His face contorted into a scowl she hadn't seen in years, "People aren't as kind to ex-Death Eaters as they are to war heroines on the street. So if you don't mind, I'm going to hang out here for a bit, with my favorite muggle-born." Hermione blinked and Draco settled into his seat, content with his view.

She was looking at all the wrong dresses, Draco laughed to himself. She was looking at dresses for hourglass figures and although Hermione had filled out nicely around fifth year, she was still slender and lithe. Draco's mother had made sure he understood the basics of upper class wizarding dress. Clearly Hermione's mother hadn't afforded her the same service. Even if Hermione had understood, she would have no clue where to begin looking in the upscale store. Hermione would pick a dress off the rack, furrow her brow at it, and purse her lips or wrinkle her nose, before placing it back to start the process again. An hour into the process, Draco couldn't take it anymore, she hadn't made it more than halfway through the store. He stood and crossed the room to a set of racks on the opposite side of the store from where Hermione was browsing. She noticed his movement, but didn't afford him a second glance. The dresses he was looking at looked too elegant for her to ever pull off. They were worn by the beautiful witches on the cover of magazines and, despite the press's best attempts, she was no cover girl.

Draco looked up at the figure across from him and studied her for a moment. She needed something long and subtle. Hermione was a natural, understated beauty, her dress should be the same. He flicked through the dresses picking out a couple choices. A short white one. A long silver one. A strapless green one. He even selected a deep maroon number for her. He handed his choices to Madam Crane to set in a dressing room and banished Hermione to the same room, instructing her to try on his selections. She must have been truly desperate since she didn't protest. Malfoy smirked.

Draco was a bit annoyed that Hermione didn't model the dresses for them. He convinced himself his disappointment was because he wanted to see how right he had been. The curtain would flutter and his body would tighten with excitement, but he would never catch a glimpse of his doll. Thirty minutes later, it never took his mother thirty minutes to find a dress, Hermione poked her head out of the curtains, "Malfoy," her voice was tentative, "Could you maybe zip me up?" Draco did his very best to keep his smirk at bay, but he was unsuccessful, causing the girl to grimace again. She seemed quite fond of that expression around him.

Hermione stepped back behind the curtain, but held it open for Draco to pass. He entered the small space and his breath immediately left him. She had her back to him, but he recognized the dress. It had been his favorite of the seven he had offered her. It was silver with an open back and a short train. She was a bit too short, so heels would be a must. He tried to ignore the jump his heart gave at the thought of Hermione in high pumps. Draco did up the zipper from the middle of her rear to the base of her back. He lightly tapped her hip to signal for her to turn. The dress was incredibly simple: a silver sheet that wrapped around her body snugly, accentuating the silhouette her robes did their best to hid. It was held up by two slim strands forming a halter around her neck. She looked at herself in the mirror and Draco stood behind her.

"I _think_ I like it." Her inflection lilted upwards to form a question.

"Granger," Draco rested his hands lightly on her waist and his chin just above her shoulder, "If you don't buy this dress, I will and I'll force you into it, do you understand?"

"Do you, do you think Ron will like it?" She looked at his reflection shyly. _Where was this girl's confidence? That Gryffindor courage._

"He'll be blown away."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione and Malfoy left the shop, comfortable in their silence. Draco, though he didn't express it, was thrilled to have her company; the presence of a war heroine held the hecklers at bay. This short reprieve was a bliss he hadn't known for months. Hermione couldn't understand why people were looking at her as if she had grown a second head. Malfoy had been acquitted at his trial, certainly that meant something to people. She had protested, but in the end, he had won the battle to carry her bag. That's how Ginny and Harry found them ten minutes later in front of Fortescue's Ice Cream: walking side by side, occasionally bumping arms, with Malfoy swinging her bag back and forth.

The parlor was under the new management of Florean Fortescue's niece, Felicity. In the year she owned the parlor she had expanded the shop to include a small, quaint café. Hermione, Ginny, and Harry had planned on meeting there for a light meal at four before the girls had to return to school. The fiancés looked questioningly at Malfoy, but neither said anything as he handed Hermione her bag. He gave the trio a curt nod and turned to stride down the road.

"Oi. Malfoy?" Ginny and Hermione looked at Harry in shock. The would expect Ron to heckle the boy, but not Harry. Ginny had gone to slap Harry's chest, but he had intercepted her, "Want to join us for a bite?" Malfoy hesitated, clearly not trusting the offer, "Malfoy, after what great company you've been for our Hermione in the past months we wouldn't spring a trap on you like this over dinner." Hermione gave him an incredulous look, truly having believed she had neglected writing about her Slytherins, "Don't give me that look. You're the one who said he wasn't a right foul git anymore." Ginny let out a small, Draco hosted a glimmer of a smile, Hermione scoffed indignantly.

The four were immediately shown to a small table in the corner. Harry pulled a chair out for Ginny. Malfoy paused a moment before doing the same for Hermione. Ron never helped her into a chair, even if he was just mimicking Harry. The two men settled into seats opposite one another and the waitress bounced over to take their drink orders. Draco did not miss the confused expression the waiter had upon seeing him. After the first few minutes of awkward small talk, Draco and Harry struck up an easy conversation about Harry's quidditch training. If Hermione didn't know any better, she would have thought Malfoy to be jealous of the boy who lived. Ginny, after she recovered from the shock of Malfoy being pleasant, joined in, leaving Hermione the odd man out of the conversation.

"Hermione doesn't get the point of flying." Ginny rolled her eyes, poking fun at her friend.

"You're hurtling through the sky just one strong wind away from certain death." Hermione gave her usual rant.

"Granger, you like reading, right?" Hermione nodded to Malfoy's question, "Adventure?" She shrugged a noncommittal shrug, not willing to give him two affirmative answers in a row, "When you're reading from the protagonist's point of view and he's fighting an intense battle. You know he's going to win because he's the hero and in the books the heroes always win. You feel invincible, like nothing in the world could touch you, yes?" She nodded, "That's what flying feels like. You're invincible, nothing can touch you."

Hermione snorted none too delicately, "I've been on a broom, Malfoy. I tried to learn the summer before fifth year. And Ron and Harry have both tried to take me up on the back of their brooms, but that ended terribly."

Draco raised both his eyebrows and allowed a playful grin to spread on his face. The incredulity rang clear, "They put you on the back of the broom?" His gaze flipped between Hermione and Harry. He turned his grey gaze to Ginny, "Red, when your father first took you up on a broom, where did he put you? In front or behind him?" _In front of._ "You're supposed to put a beginner in front of you. Potter might not have known, but Weasley certainly should have.

"It makes the ride more boring for the more experienced flyer, but it makes it easier to slow and harder to speed up. Plus, the more experienced flyer has a hold on the newer one, making it less likely the new one would fall off." Hermione rolled her eyes, of course Ron had wanted to have more fun, even if it sent her into a panic. "You'll have to try it sometime."

"Malfoy, if you can get Hermione on a broom, I'll throw the House Cup to Slytherin this year." Ginny challenged, Harry nodding along vigorously. Hermione could almost hear Draco's thoughts. _Challenge accepted._

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"You're positive this will work?" Hermione eyed her arm skeptically. Madam Pomfrey scoffed, insulted the girl doubted her. "There's no long-term solution?"

On most days, Hermione's scar was hidden from the curious eye by her swooping cloak sleeves. Tonight, however, her entire arms would be exposed to the wizarding world and she would much rather her war wounds were not on display. Promptly upon side-apparating Ginny back to Hogwarts, Hermione had rushed to the Hospital Wing for her appointment with Madam Pomfrey, leaving the red head and Malfoy to bicker about the upcoming quidditch season. She now sat on the hospital bed furthest from the door and watched the Healer rub a concealing salve over the _Mudblood_ scar. It was slowly disappearing under her ministrations, but Hermione knew it was only for a few hours. This was the best anyone had been able to do to rid Hermione of the atrocious scars.

Hermione just wanted the scar to disappear. Hadn't she acquired enough good karma for the scar to disappear or to find her parents? Malfoy had said earlier that evening that heroes always win in the books. She was a hero, wasn't she? All the newspapers and gossip magazines labeled her as such. Every morning, she woke up forgetting about the scar and every morning when she caught a glimpse of the angry white marks she would grimace and remember that her life was not a book and that in real life, there were no happy endings.

"Just be thankful your pureblood ancestor isn't so far removed, my dear." Hermione wrinkled her nose. _That's not right_. She had traced her genealogy after the Heir of Slytherin search second year. She had found no inkling of magic, pureblood or otherwise, and she had ventured as far back as the seventeenth century. That seemed pretty far removed for Hermione's taste. Why did it even matter? Hermione voiced both her thoughts to the older woman. Now it was Madam Pomfrey's turn to wrinkle her nose in confusion, "Well certainly someone had told you? The blade that did this to you was a very old one, cursed with one of the oldest dark spells from the first time wizards persecuted muggles and muggleborns. The curse is responsible for most of the leprosy outbreaks through history." The witch had stopped her bustling about to watch the young women perched on her cot. "The curse was created with a fail-safe: it could not harm pureblooded witches or wizards, or their recent descendants. The full effect would have cut straight through your arm with ease. That's if you were lucky. Otherwise the limb would rot from the inside out, the curse slowly spreading."

A pit formed in Hermione's stomach. Not only was her genealogy incorrect, but Bellatrix had tried to do _that_ to Hermione with her bare hands. Madam Promfrey reached Hermione with a bedpan just in time.


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.** Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long! I'm on vacation and I have terrible wifi so updating had been next to impossible. But here it is: the ball scene and where the story really gets started. Thank you everyone who had reviewed, I've loved hearing all the comments!

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"Play nice, Draco." Theo reminded as the three eighth years walked into the Slytherin Dungeon, "You had to go anyway, for the Head's Dance. At least this way you'll have someone to occupy you." The blonde in question scoffed.

"So good to hear that you're excited." Sarah quipped from her seat near the fire. Beside her stood Blaise's date, the only girl Draco went out of his way to avoid, Astoria Greengrass. Draco shrugged and offered Sarah his arm.

The halls of the castle were congested with so many students, half of which were in high heels no less, making their way to one destination. Thankfully the five Slytherins had only a short distance between their dungeon common room and the Great Hall. Just before Professor Sprout could usher the group into the Hall, Theo caught his date's arm, pulling her close. Had it not been Draco's idea that they go together, he would have gagged.

Luna Lovegood had been on Draco's radar since her sorting six years ago. How could she not be? She climbed onto the sorting stool with radish earrings and matching flats that looked even more ridiculous. No Slytherin had taken issue with her until she buddied up with Potter in fifth year, until then she had simply been irrelevant. Now, having spent many late nights in the library with Granger, the Slytherins had grown accustomed to her friends, chiefly Red and Luna, who often joined their table. Theo had always been more open than a normal Slytherin: Blaise might flirt and peacock around the castle, but it was Theo who wore his heart on his sleeve. It had been clear to those who knew him well that he had a thing for Luna before he had figured it out. He avoided sitting near her and hardly spoke to her, the classic markings of a schoolboy crush.

As soon as Theo had asked the Ravenclaw to the dance, they had become inseparable. Hermione and Draco spent quite a bit of time commenting to one another about the new relationship. She was happy for her friend. He was worried his friend would give away his secret. Those Ravenclaws were often nosy when there was something to be learned. Draco led his small group to one of the circular tables situated towards the back of the hall. He and his fellow eighth years pulled back three wrought-iron chairs, magicked to be much lighter than they otherwise would be, to allow their dates to settle at the table. The women hid their legs beneath the black table cloth before looking around the room to take in their surroundings.

Astoria crinkled her nose, the Great Hall was not nearly what she had wished it would be, since it looked no different from the Halloween Feast décor. Sarah, a half-blood raised by her firefighter-muggle father, was far more impressed with her magical surroundings. The candles that usually floated high above had been encased in jack-o-lanterns casting a darker glow over the large room. The floor had been transfigured to a pure white, circular dance floor that was slightly raised in the middle. Cobwebs draped across pillars and lighting fixtures; Sarah thought she saw a black cat wandering about. Blaise had already made a break for one of the large candy bins, much to the annoyance of Astoria. There was a large bar situated on the dais where the staff typically sat with a large sign reading _Of-Age Witches and Wizards Only_. Draco groaned at the music, typical ball music in a different key to give it a more haunting sound, and decided the only way he would make it through the night was with a bottomless fire whiskey. The line was very short since there were very few of-age students so Draco quickly forked over his galleons for the magically replenishing drink. He turned, taking a long swig of his drink and enjoying the burn as it moved down his throat, to see Sarah calling him back to their table by gesturing madly. The hall was full. Teachers lined the walls. Sprout took her place beside McGonagall. The ball was about to start.

 _Sarah was a nice girl._ Draco mused, _she remained neutral during the war despite pressure from her housemates, that's a plus. She's pretty, long brown waves and dark brown eyes. Sure, she's a bit dimwitted, but what level of intelligence does it take to serve as a Malfoy wife?_ _She is not as frail as the previous Malfoy wives and she's pleasant enough, both traits the Malfoy line is in desperate need of. She's a half-blood – but who is around to contest that? They would have to marry before she finished school, but he wouldn't stand in the way of her education. Surely, she would be amenable to the proposal. Her father on the other hand…_

"Captain, my captain," Sarah joked, one Draco did not understand, wrapping her arm around his back, "Do I get a sip?"

"You're underage." He flipped back, taking a swig of his own.

"You didn't answer my question." She smirked up at him.

"I'm Head Boy." Another swig. "It would hardly be proper."

"Still not an answer." He handed her his drink. She tossed back almost half the tall glass. "Sorry about that." It refilled and her eyes bulged, "Now this will be fun." A trumpet sounded, "Here come the Gryffindors." She snickered, throwing back another long gulp before Draco stole the cup from her to fill his own body with the burning liquid.

Sarah would do that. Ever since she was sorted into Slytherin House, she would mimic her classmates, trying to fit in. Having been raised by a muggle, she had no knowledge of the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, but quickly adopted it. Even young Draco had disliked this duplicity; Draco hated to be lied to and this girl did little more than lie when disparaging Gryffindor.

In flowed the Order. Kingsley, the Minister of Magic, led the charge, with his daughter on his arm. His wife had died early in the First War leaving him to raise a newborn daughter and fight for the cause. Most of the Weasley clan, all except the two youngest, followed. Then came Draco's Aunt Andromeda looking like a more elegant, and more sane, version of his Aunt Bella. The dark-haired woman was bouncing a small baby on her hip. _Teddy._ Draco's baby cousin, the orphan. The little boy had a small tuft of bright blue hair spurting up out of his head. The rest of the Order flooded in, some paired with one another, others sporting dates. The influx was small, the planning committee had deliberately left many of the younger, less known heros out of the ceremonial walk. The reasons for concealment varied. Luna sat beside Draco not because she did not contribute greatly to the war effort, but to protect her from reporters learning of her capture. Neville did not stand at the edge of the dance floor because his recreation of Dumbledore had been useless, much to the contrary, McGonagall was simply worried he would trip and cause a scene that would be splashed on the front of every new magazine. Finally, Aberforth Dumbledore, only featured, Draco suspected, because of his brother, walked in alone, concluding the Order procession and allowing the incessant clapping to dull. The doors to the Great Hall closed and the members of the Order found seats in the area that had been corded off for them. Draco took his seat beside Sarah, relaxing against the seat and draping his arm across her shoulders.

The doors opened once again and _they_ walked in. The three war heroes plus Ginny walked two by two down the aisle created by students. _They were all students here two years ago, no one fawned over the Weasel then._ Potter and Red were the first to enter the hall, her dress inspiring _ohhs_ and _ahhs_. The dark emerald green was a lovely color, but Draco noticed it was uneven between the bodice and the skirt. Draco guessed that most people wouldn't even notice, but the four Slytherins who were brought up in the highest of wizarding societies were trained to notice such imperfections. Her imperfections were easily excused by the look of adoration Red's presence created on Potter's face. Potter had an arm wrapped lovingly around her as the two led the charge. Draco felt a pang somewhere in his chest as he watched the famous couple drift across the aisle, Red's sparkling ring the envy of all. People cheered the two on from the sides, yelling for them as a couple and as individual. Red, although undervalued by the Order, was a formidable witch. She looked over at Potter and an infectious grin broke across her face. _That's what I want._

The second pair did not exude a fairytale ending. _The Weasel never failed to disappoint_. Not only were his dress robes were in disarray, but Draco was fairly certain he saw old stains littered around the chest and thighs. His hair was an atrocious bright red, a far cry from Red's striking mane. Spending so much time with Red, her hair color was beginning to grow on him. Just a glance at the Weasel undid all Draco's progress. The Weasel's hair, beyond unfortunate hue, was also far too long if Draco said so himself. It almost looked like he was trying to mimic the boy in front of him, but failing miserably. Draco could feel the smirk _dying_ to make its way onto his face. A sharp kick met his shin bone under the table. When he looked up, Theo was mouthing, "Play nice." This time Draco offered a quick grimace and then allowed his trademark smirk to grace his features. He turned his attention back to the entering couples in time to see the Weasel _grab_ at Granger's hand, but Granger only gave a squeeze before slipping her smaller hand out of his larger mitt. The brunette opted to knit her two hands together in front of her, bunching her own dress ever so slightly.

"Hermione looks beautiful." Sarah gasped. That much was obvious, after all, Draco had dressed her. The silver dress flowed down Hermione's delicate frame giving it the appearance of a liquid rather than a solid. The dress hung from two strands wrapping around her neck, long and elegant, with all her hair piled on top her head in a slick up do. But Draco was too busy examining her facial features to admire the dress for a second time.

Her brows were furrowed like they did when she worked on potions late at night. She bit her lip and Draco worried she would accidentally tear it off. Her hands, once calmly knit together, anxiously wrung in front of her. Draco wanted to close the distance between himself and the war heroine to stop the anxious motion to save her dress from the wrinkling the tick was causing. The Weasel was saying something to her and with each new word, Hermione's smile grew more and more forced. Draco wanted to punch the Weasel more than usual this Halloween.

"Ron, do not do this now." Hermione whispered out the side of her mouth as they entered the large circular dance floor.

"You are not dancing with him, Hermione." Ron took her waist, too rough for her preferences, "I don't care if he's _reformed_. He's a fucking Death Eater."

"It's a _tradition_ , Ron. The heads dance together at major Hogwarts events." The eerie waltz began to play and they began to spin with Hermione doing her best to subtly guide Ron through a dance he had refused to learn and Ron gripping her waist and hand so tightly she was sure there would be bruises, "All you need to do is hand me off at the end of the song. Think of all the good this can do for the Wizarding World. In healing. In getting him accepted." Hermione saw Malfoy stand from his table and walk over towards the dancefloor. The song was about to end and Ron can drop his vicelike grip.

"I. Do. Not. Care." Ron bit out, tugging her harshly against him. She supposed it was supposed to make her feel wanted, him grinding his engorged penis against her thigh. It only made her feel uncomfortable and a bit peeved that he thought he could make such a move in front of everyone without her permission. She was _not_ his possession, "He is a Death Eater and we have done enough for the Wizarding World." The song stopped as did the dancers. Harry held Ginny's hand up above their heads, the universal sign for victory. Harry and Ginny turned to face Hermione and Ron, but when the latter two were not touching and instead looked positively miserable, Harry's smile faltered before he led Ginny off the dance floor, melding in with the crowd of students.

Hermione turned to Ron, "Ron," She pleaded up at him, "Please. Be the bigger person."

Ron glared first at her then at Malfoy who had reached the edge of the ring of students. Ron dropped his hands and left the dance floor, leaving Hermione alone in the middle of the students. Hermione's eyes stayed trained on the spot where Ron had disappeared, but McGonagall was already swooping into the circle, accompanied by Aberforth. Hermione did not have the time for the prickling sensation at the back of her eyes.

"May I?" Malfoy had crossed to her and was extending a hand to her. She nodded, letting him take one of her hands and her waist. He was hesitant, as if, despite her permission, he was worried he was doing something wrong. The music began and the dancers twirled about, "I'm sorry for any trouble this is causing for you."

Hermione sighed, "It's not you. He's just-"

"A child?" He smirked down at her. She couldn't help but notice that he was just as tall as Ron. She did not remember him being so tall, but reasoned that it would make sense: his father was tall.

"I was going to say stubborn." She let a small smile grace her lips as they floated around the dance floor.

The pair twirled around and around, always on the opposite side of the dance floor as Professor McGonagall and Aberforth. Malfoy moved the pair easily, keeping his hand at the small of her back, not daring to drift lower as Ron had done, despite their fighting. Hermione found herself relaxing into him ever so slightly, no longer needing to stay alert to plan the next step or twirl: he could do that.

"I told you you'd look amazing in this dress, 'Mione." Draco had created the only nickname she had ever had one night in the library when he had been too exhausted to master all the syllables of her full name. He was satisfied with the blush in her cheeks and the twinkle in her brown eyes. He had done it. He had cheered her from Weasel's childish ways, "I always hated these things." Malfoy sighed, her hair, piled high, tickling his cheek.

"I never would have guessed." Hermione pondered, "I would've thought this stuff to be second nature by to you now."

"Just because it's second nature doesn't mean I liked them." He rolled his eyes, "I almost didn't come tonight. But McGonagall has done so much for me so I couldn't deny her one dance."

The music slowed to a close suddenly there was an upbeat tempo. "Well, I'm glad you came. You're a wonderful dancer." And it wasn't a lie. Softly, he had led her through the motions of the dance. She had never seen the dance before, but she had never felt uncertain with Malfoy leading her.

"Can I have my girlfriend back?" Ron grabbed Hermione away from Malfoy and dragged her off the dance floor before he could respond to her quiet admission.

Abruptly yanking her off the dance floor was one thing. Abruptly yanking her off the dance floor to be relegated to a chair was an entirely different crime. Hermione worked hard to contain her annoyance as she watched Ginny and Harry twirl, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley laugh, Malfoy dance with his date – what was her name? Samantha? Cindy? Hermione didn't know – all the while Ron pouted in the seat next to hers. She resigned herself to a night of watching.

"Um, hey Hermione?" Neville was standing in front of her, looking bashful, "Hannah wanted to sit a round or two out and she suggested I come ask you. But you're sitting and you must want a break, I'm sure you've had a busy week –"

"I would love to!" Hermione jumped up before Ron could protest.

Dancing with Neville was the turning point of the evening. Hannah returned after a couple dances to reclaim Neville. Hermione dreaded returning to Ron where he still pouted in the survivor's court. Before she could leave the dance floor, Hermione was swept off her feet by none other than Theo Nott. He whisked her around the floor in an up-tempo dance. Her grin stretched ear to ear. When the music finished, she tried to retreat to Mr. Weasley, but Blaise Zabini scooped her up, complaining that Theo had a dance before he did. Hermione scoffed and her smile grew brighter.

Hermione was able to catch a glimpse of Ron when Blaise dipped her. He had perked up, having gathered a group of fifth years around him. Hermione guessed he held them captive while he told his war stories. His new habit, inflating his role in the horcrux hunt, ground on Hermione's nerves. _He_ wasn't in Godric's Hollow. _He_ didn't loose his family. But it kept him busy and left her free to dance with those who were willing to have her. Plus, she didn't need the praise. She had done what she had had to do. She was nothing extraordinary.

She danced with Kingsley, then Arthur, George and Bill. Even Percy took her waist for a short spell. Ginny distracted her brother with a gleeful glint to her blue eyes while Hermione fell back into Theo's arms and next Blaise, who refused to be outdone. Then the quietest of her Slytherins. Ginny's eyes widened a bit, but Ron didn't notice as her girlfriend was swept to the middle of the dance floor by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Having a nice time, I see." Malfoy smirked down at her, "Blaise danced with you more than Astoria. She's beside herself."

"I'm sure she'll get over it." He spun her away and pulled her back close. His arm wrapped snuggly around her waist and his other hand clutched hers just above his heart. They deserted the song's prescribed dance in favor of a gentle sway. Hermione inclined her chin to look the boy in the eyes, "McGonagall would be thrilled. Us having a second dance and all. And what it means for inter-house unity."

Malfoy nodded, but his train of thought seemed elsewhere; his eyes had a faraway look to them. She timidly gnawed on her lip, waiting to hear what was troubling him. "Does he always grab you like that? When he pulled you away from me in the first dance, I though Blaise was going to hex him."

Hermione sighed. It was something she had noticed. He was rough and sudden, he acted before he thought. A typical Gryffindor, "He grew up with five brothers. He doesn't realize how abrupt he can be."

As if on cue, Ron appeared at her side, wrenching her away from the Slytherin. For the second time that night, Ron pulled Hermione away from Malfoy and to a chair. Ron slunk back in his chair beside hers with a refilling glass of fire whiskey he had picked up somewhere along the way. The slump to his back conveyed both exhaustion from his showboating and drunkenness. Hermione perched elegantly beside him, balancing little Teddy on her lap. The head girl cooed calmly despite the anger bubbling just below her skin. The little boy was waving a spoon around in one hand while his other gripped Hermione's index finger. The little boy was growing quickly. Already he had a full head of hair, the color of which changed based on his moods. Hermione had situated a plateful of fruit in front of the child, but he appeared more interested in getting Hermione's finger into his mouth than the pieces of melon. Harry and Ginny were still on the dance floor, smiling and laughing and holding one another close. Hermione knew Ginny had missed Harry dearly; over the summer, Ginny hardly ever let Harry out of her sight so being away at school was particularly difficult for her. The quick meetup in Diagon Alley had hardly been enough.

"Baba ba." Teddy babbled trying to pull Hermione's finger into his mouth.

"No no no." Hermione chided kindly, "Try this," She handed the little boy a piece of fruit.

Ron waved his mother over to take Teddy. Hermione watched the baby's retreat wistfully, almost missing when Ron spoke, "You know, you're really good with him." Hermione only smiled, watching Teddy settle in with Mrs. Weasley, "I just, I don't really know how to say this, but, um – you're really good with him."

Hermione turned back to face her boyfriend while Molly scolded Teddy for throwing his piece of melon, "See? It wasn't that hard." She laughed and gave him an encouraging smile. Ron finished what was left in his glass and then downed the refill. _Six and Seven._

"So, I, um, I really can't wait until we have our own, and um,"

"Ron, that's sweet but I don't see myself having children until well after I graduate from school and am settled into a job. Plus, we've only been dating a few months!" She laughed. _Ron could say the craziest things._ He chugged another glass. _Eight._

"I know." He took a deep breath, "But my parents got married only three months after they started dating. It's a wizarding thing, we marry young when we know we've found our match. And I've found my match, Hermione. It's you. Will you marry me?" He was down on one knee holding up a gaudy engagement ring before she could protest. The ring didn't matter to Hermione, what mattered that there was a man, her boyfriend, kneeling in front of her with that stupid grin on his face.

Everything slowed. Mrs. Weasley had stopped bouncing little Teddy and instead was staring at her youngest son with pride and joy. It was no secret that Mrs. Weasley was almost always disappointed in her youngest son's behavior, but marrying Hermione was one decision she supported wholeheartedly. Mr. Weasley's brow bunched as a mini-weeny was suspended between his mouth and his plate. Ginny looked between Hermione and Ron with wide eyes while Harry carefully watched the pair with a blank expression. Harry understood Hermione's views on marriage since they had both grown up in the muggle world. The Slytherins were looking over with horrified expressions. Blaise and Luna had gone so far as to stop in their place on the dancefloor. Neville and Hannah Abbot watched from another table, smiling at their friends. Fay was amused. Lavender looked _pissed_.

"Ron, We're barely eighteen." Hermione looked with panicked eyes at the ring. Her voice was firm, but her mind wavered. They were having this conversation far younger than she had hoped; if she was twenty-five, with a home and a job, she would not have hesitated in accepting his proposal. _It was_ _Ron_. She loved Ron. She shouldn't let something as foolish as a number prevent them from being happy. _Should she?_ Plus, Ron was not good at handling rejection. She wanted to think he would accept her answer of _not no, just later_ and let things go back to the way the should be. With the entire Great Hall watching, and with reporters readying themselves to broadcast her hesitation, Ron would not back down and he would not go quietly. She knew, in that moment, that she either had to accept his proposal or lose Ron.

"But we're a witch and wizard. It's normal to get married right out of school." She pointed out that she was still _in school_. " _Technically_. But like you said, you're eighteen. That's the _normal_ age for marriage." He reached up and downed another glass. _Nine._

"Ron? When have we ever been _normal_." Hermione shot back. _Tie yourself to him forever or lose him? Age is only a number. I'd be jumping to say yes if we were only five years older and he was done with training and I had a job and was finished with school and we had a house and a steady income and a longer relationship…_

Ron abruptly stood, dropping the ring, "That's exactly why we should get engaged! I know you like being an abnormal freak, but I want to have at least a _portion_ of my life be normal."

"Ron, maybe this should wait until tomorrow. You've been drinking-" As if to reinforce her statement, he threw back another drink. _Ten._

"You're giving _her_ the ring?" Lavender exploded from the crowd, propelling herself into the VIP section, " _I'm_ giving you a _baby_. And you're giving _her_ a ring?"

The world froze. Molly's jay dropped, looking at the new girl. Harry's mask of indifference dropped into utter horror. Ginny's face went as red as her hair, the only force keeping her in her place was Harry's arm, still curled around her waist, but even that didn't look like enough. The Greengrass girl was clearly enjoying the drama unfolding across the room. Luna looked on dreamily. Zabini and Nott had both left their dates to stand near Malfoy to watch Hermione's world crash and burn. Fay had tried to follow Lavender, but failed to stop her, instead she watched from the ring forming around the hero section, a hand clasped over her mouth.

"You- she- that's yours." Hermione struggled, "But she said she conceived it right after the war."

Hermione ignored Lavender ("Don't call our baby a _that!_ ") in favor of Ron, "You were off galivanting around the world!" Ron exploded, situating himself between Hermione and Lavender.

"I was _traveling_ to Australia to find my _parents_." Hermione almost growled, "I wasn't frequenting Greek beaches!" How _dare_ he? How dare he insinuate she was off living the time of her life. She had made more sacrifices in the past two years than he had ever dreamed. She sent her parents packing, erasing herself from their memories, and he had run back to _mummy_ when the going had gotten bumpy? Not only that, but when she tried to regain some of what she had lost he had _cheated_ on her. Weren't the Weasleys supposed to be the epitome of _Gryffindor_ and weren't _Gryffindors_ supposed to be _brave_ and _loyal_. How had Ron been sorted into such a noble house and carried out these transgressions.

Ron yelled, "You left me for weeks! As soon as we could live normal lives!"

"I asked if you wanted to come with me! I had to try to find them!"

"But you failed!" Lavender wrapped her arms around Ron, her hands settled a bit too close to his belt for anyone to be comfortable, "And Lavender was there to take care of me. You have no idea what it was like for me, coming home after the war. Fred was gone. George was missing an ear. Percy was distraught since Audrey died, did you even know that? You weren't here for it so you wouldn't know."

"I knew! I was in Australia, not on Mars!"

"Don't you know it all? You insufferable, bitch!" Ron exploded. He threw back another tumbler of Fire Whiskey. _Eleven._ "You don't want to marry me? Fine! But don't come crawling back to me when you figure out no one else will want you. They'll only want your fame or the reward money! You loud-mouthed, bucked-tooth, frizzy-haired know-it-all. Now you have all the time in the world to find your parents." Ron turned around to face the soon-to-be mother of his child, "Lav Lav. Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Won Won!" She shrieked throwing herself around him, fusing their lips in a way Hermione could have gone her whole life without seeing.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors fought and stood up for what was right. Cheating on your girlfriend was wrong. Hermione should fight that, fight Ron who had made her a victim. Hermione should be yelling at him, she should shoot body binding curses and bat boogey hexes at him. She shouldn't be running as fast as her heels would allow.


	8. Chapter 8

_Won Won. Lav Lav._ She had hated those pet names since their inception. Now she _detested_ them. Won Won and Lav Lav were having a baby. Won Won and Lav Lav were engaged. Lav Lav had the ring on her finger, the ring – that atrocious ring – that had been picked out for Hermione.

 _No one will want you._ The words cut deep. Ron was inebriated when he had said those words, but her classmates back in primary school had not been when they uttered similar insults. Ron had never met her muggle classmates, never had a chance for their thoughts to invade him, he had come to the same conclusion on his own. Scientifically speaking, replicability was a necessary trait of proving fact. It was fact now. No one would want her.

 _They'll only want your fame or the reward money._ Hadn't she already seen that? Every time her picture or name was printed in the Daily Prophet, a slew of marriage proposals came in the post the next morning. At first it had only been ten, she had only been clinging to Harry's fame. Then she had come into her own as trial after trial was conducted and her prominence in Harry's victory was made evident. Every time she appeared in print, she would get dozens of proposals. As large as those number were, they paled in comparison to the amount of proposals she had received after the Daily Prophet announce that she, Ron and Harry had received a reward of almost half a million gallons each for their _services to the Wizarding World._ There had been nearly a hundred. None of them repeats. Most witches would feel desired for having received over a hundred marriage proposals before the age of twenty. But Hermione had Ron to remind her, they only wanted her fame and fortune.

Her head spun and her heels stuck in the stone floor. Hermione had felt graceful, powerful as she had walked into the ball. Now she was disoriented and broken, akin to her usual state after a cruciatius. Merlin, she had a usual state for the aftermath of a cruciatus curse. What had her life become? She slumped against the large doors that opened to the castle's grounds, suddenly overwhelmed not only by the events of tonight, but also by the events of the entire past year.

"Not here." A firm, warm pressure wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into a standing position. She tried to focus on the intruder, but the watery film of unknown tears prevented her. The person guided her through the castle with that warm arm around her waist.

Step. Step. Slope. Slope. Climb climb climb. _I'd be able to steer myself if my_ _ **boyfriend**_ _hadn't gotten another girl pregnant._ Despite the person's adept guidance, she fumbled and tripped, sometimes because of her shoes, others because of her long dress, and still others for no reason at all. The sounds of the party had died out, or at least she could no longer hear them. Another stumble nearly forced her to her hands and knees, that arm the only thing keeping her vertical.

" _Shhh._ Granger," The arm righted her and pulled her into a muscular chest, the accompanying voice whispered into her ear, "I'm going to carry you the rest of the way, understand? We aren't that far, but if we don't hurry we might run into someone." She silently nodded her head, biting her lip to keep a sob from escaping. _She couldn't steer. She couldn't walk._

The body crouched down a bit and swooped her off her feet. One strong arm supported her upper back, the other held under her knees. Hermione wrapped her arms around the man's – it must be a man to have the strength to deadlift her – neck. He shifted his supports to allow her to cling to him, drawing strength from the darkly sweet smell of his skin and comfort from his hair as it lightly swished against her ear. She could feel him propelling them through the castle, but her eyes were still creating too many tears for her to see where they were going. _Of_ _ **all**_ _the places to find out it had to be at the first ball thrown after the war? Fred was dead. The first night I was having fun since…since…since fourth, maybe even third year._ Insufferable bitch! _Pull. Climb. Stumble. Push. Step step._

The chill washed over her when she was carried through one of Hogwarts' false walls. She hoped it wasn't her rooms, the last thing she wanted was to sleep in a room shared with that bint. A quick turn to the left. That would be towards the Gryffindor rooms. _No one else will want you._ _No no. Not my dorm. She lives there. She'll be there. The baby will be there. Audrey was killed before they could round up all the Death Eaters. She had always been so nice._

"Sh…" The hand wrapped to cup her hip, muting her sobs and pulling away from the staircase and turning to walk in the opposite direction, "Don't worry, sweetheart, you can stay here tonight. As long as you need." Down. Down. Down. Down. _Umphf._

The couch she sat on was firm underneath her, not as firm as his chest, but firm nonetheless. The couch shifted beside her as her guide sat beside her. She let gravity lean her towards him until she rested her cheek against his shoulder. She heard a muttered _Incendio_ and the room warmed, but she still shivered, chilled to her bone by her boyfriend's – ex boyfriend's – cruel words.

"Now?" Her voice cracked.

"Now." The floodgates opened. The man wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of his neck for the second time that night. "I know, sweetheart, I know. It's alright, 'mione. He never deserved you, princess, just breathe." The voice caressed her trying, and failing, to soothe her. The sobs wracked her body and her tears soaked through the shirt. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione wondered where her make-up was, on her face or on his shirt. He looped his arms around her legs and pulled them up across his lap, cradling her like a small child and making the position all the more comfortable. "It's ok, sweetheart. You'll be alright. We'll get you through this. Promise." He rocked the two of them softly.

She had pledged to herself on the very first day of classes that she would not be a victim. That she would not dwell on what she lost. That she would think of the future she had gained. But didn't that future _require_ Ron? They had fought the war together, they had won the war together. He had been a fixture in her life for eight years. He had been a romantic infatuation for three. They might only have been officially dating for a few months, but they _belonged_ together. Everyone said so. There were columns in the _Prophet_ that gave frequent updates on their relationship. She had followed her own advice and focused on her future. A future with a redheaded girl and a brunette boy with blue eyes, with Christmases at the burrow, with Ron. Why didn't she just say yes? Instead of sobbing she would still be at the ball, dancing with her fiancé. She had found her voice, "I should've said yes. I would've been happy with Ron. And his family would've been happy. And those gossip mongers would be thrilled. The proposals would stop. I could've finished school, gotten married after graduation, had a family. I might never find my parents, Ron was all I ha-" the tears had picked up and her voice deteriorated into a puddle.

"'Mione," The man pulled away from her and softly wiped the tears from her eyes, "Look at me." She blinked, and blinked, and blinked. Her vision slowly cleared. _Draco Malfoy._ Draco Malfoy was cradling her in a room that looked like a smaller version of the Slytherin Dungeon Harry and – Harry and the other one – had described during their second year. "You are so much better than him. In every way." His sharp grey eyes bore into her soft brown ones, "You're smarter, you're more attractive, you're kinder. Pick any positive attribute and I promise you surpass him. You will do better than him, someone who will take care of you and make you better, not hold you back. I promise. You would not have been happy with him. At best you would have been bored, at worst, the Brown bint would have reared her ugly head later." She started crying again, tucking her head into Draco's chest. He rested his chin on the crown of her head. She started blubbering about being alone, "You deserve so much better sweetheart. You don't need him. You aren't alone. We will take care of you. Just think, a little bit of pain now will let you find someone you really belong with."

"Ginny will leave me. He's her brother. And Fay and Lavender have been best friends since before Hogwarts. So I've lost her too." She worried. She didn't care that she had only been non-hostile with Draco a few months, the words flew from her mouth, "And Harry, poor Harry! He'll be caught in the middle! But he'll side with Ginny. They're engaged! I could've just gone along with Ginny! Wedding planning and dress shopping and then baby clothes and…"

"Hermione," Draco chuckled, but she felt it more than she heard it, "If your friends desert you that easily, they aren't your friends. Plus, Theo and Blaise had taken quite a liking to you, so I doubt they would let me ditch you, even if I wanted to."

"Draco!" a voice yelled from the top of the stairs, drawing closer, "You seen Granger? Potter thinks she's in here." Blaise let his voice quiet, "Hey Granger, how you holding up?"

"I could be better." Hermione let out a watery chuckle, pulling away from his friend. Blaise's perpetual smile did wonderful things for her nerves just then. Her tears slowed to a stop and her nose stopped her dripping. She had always been an ugly crier.

"Sorry, Hermione, that was a show for the group in the common room." Theo appeared behind Blaise, "Don't want anyone bothering you, I'd imagine." A grateful smile tugged at her lips. Her Slytherins, seizing the chance to be heroes.

Draco pulled one arm away from her, but tightened the other's grasp around her shoulders. She was suddenly acutely aware she was sitting on his lap in a dark room, "We'll take care of you, Granger. We take care of our own in Slytherin House." Hermione, despite her shock and grief, nodded. "Blaise, where's Weasley?" _Outside the common room with Harry. Perfect. At least he wasn't_ _ **in**_ _the common room._ "Granger, do you want to see Potter?" Hermione paused and deliberated, but ultimately shook her head. "Get rid of them both. Do what you need." Blaise was off, climbing up the dungeon-like stairs. "Theo, go contain the media. I want a total black out. I'm talking third-year-Greengrass-pregnancy level black out." Theo gave his friend a mock salute and jogged up the stairs, leaving Hermione alone with Draco once again.

Theo and Blaise were quite the pair, Hermione had come to learn in the past two months. They were a quieter, more cerebral version of the Weasley twins. This quickly endeared them to Hermione. That night, their casual kindness was exactly what she had needed to quiet her tears. Hermione had calmed enough to take in her surroundings while Draco barked his orders. The smaller common room was grand to say the least. There was a large, black marble fireplace against the wall they were facing. The floor was a dark hardwood and the walls were painted dark green. A small, but grand, chandelier hung from the ceiling above them with dozens of candles lighting the room. She couldn't tell if the chandelier or the large windows with a view mimicking the lake gave the common room its greenish tint. Hermione and Draco were sitting on the room's only sofa. It was black with a low back. On either side of the couch forming a semicircle with the sofa around the fireplace were two white, button-tufted arm chairs with tall backs. There was a small work area in the corner, with two large, stately, mahogany desks with white chairs pushed in. The two walls adjacent to the fireplace wall had doors on them, two on one, and one on the other.

"'Minee, sweetheart," They were alone again, "I'm going to run you a bath. You're going to soak for a bit, try to calm yourself and then you'll go to bed. You can have my bed, I'll sleep out here." She tried to protest. He didn't need to give up _his_ bed because _her_ boyfriend was an arse. "Hermione, I know you _can_ take care of yourself, but _please_ let someone help just this once. This has been a shock to you and you need help. Please let me help you." His eyes drilled into hers once again, imploring her to listen. They were barely a foot apart. Hermione hesitated, but his face left no room for argument, so she nodded. And kept nodding. And nodding. Until she couldn't lift her head and simply rested her chin on her chest, letting the tears come once more. "Come on, Princess."

She was airborne. He had rewrapped his arms around her to cradle Hermione's small frame and simply lifted her up. After some maneuvering, he managed to shift her so her legs crossed around his waist and he arms around his neck. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, staring at his neck. His arm supported her underneath her bum, the other stayed free to open the lone door on his wall. She protested that she could _walk_ on her own, but she settled when he did not respond. He carried her into a smaller room, a bedroom. It had the same wood floor and green walls as the common area. A desk, in a similar style but smaller size than the pair in the common room, stood in the corner by the door. A large, dark wood wardrobe stood by the far wall. A nightstand with the same coloring was beside the wardrobe and on top of it rested a black candelabra, bathing the room in a soft glow. The bed beside the nightstand did not have four posters or curtains; why would it in a private room? The bed was made of dark wood, with a green blanket pulled over light grey sheets. Four pillows rested against the headboard, the back two were covered in grey pillowcases and the front two in green slips. _They didn't share rooms. How unsurprising._ Draco sat her on a bed and crossed the room to another door. The sound of water rushing reached her ears. Draco returned to sit beside her and she let her head fall to rest on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her closer and turning his head so his nose rested on her hair, _it smelt like cinnamon,_ with his lips just a whisper away from her temple.

For the first time since _the incident_ , as she would forever call Ron and Lavender's revelation, Hermione had no tears in her eyes. Her sobbing had stopped and her head was clearing, "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you." He chuckled, his breath ghosting over her ear and his body shaking merrily. "In Slytherin, we take care of our own. It's something we learn very early on in the House: you take care of each other because every other house, and even some of the professors, are hoping you fail. You might not have been sorted into the house back in first year, but we'll take care of you. We take care of our own."

Yesterday, she would have argued that under _no circumstances_ _whatsoever_ was she to be considered an honorary Slytherin. Yesterday, she would have insisted Draco Malfoy was the least comforting person on the planet. Yesterday she thought the Slytherin stairs descended to one large room with three four poster beds rather than an intimate, albeit dark, common room with private bedrooms with attached bathrooms. "Thank you." _Loud mouth, buck tooth, frizzy haired know it all._ She wouldn't continue her argument that she wasn't one of them; she needed them. She had no one except these Slytherins and Ron had made it clear she would have no one else ever again.

Draco settled her into the bathroom, showing her where she could find towels and soap and the like. "There are tshirts in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, help yourself to whatever you need. If you need anything, I'll be in the common room, or call an elf if you prefer." But he knew full well she would never prefer to call an elf. He quickly changed into pajamas of his own, green and white checkered flannel pants. For Hermione's benefit, he threw on a grey long-sleeved quidditch tee and ducked out of the room.

He sat in front of the fired, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists. _How could the Weasel do that to her?_ The question ran through his mind again and again. She was the Gryffindor Princess, the image of all that was good and kind and desirable. She had always represented everything that was unattainable to Slytherins, they had never been a bunch to trust or love unconditionally like she could. And now, because of the Weasel's selfishness she had been relegated to the Slytherin dungeons. Draco would have to remember to give the Weasel a good punch in the nose next time he saw he. Maybe a slug-vomiting charm for good measure. Draco glared into the fire, watching the flames, letting their violence coax his own violence towards the Weasel. He was only pulled from his plotting by the _clack clack_ of dress shoes on the stone stairs.

Theo collapsed into an armchair, unknotting his bowtie. Blaise fell into the other, conjuring a bag of ice to rest on his right hand.

"Where are we?" Draco asked his two best friends, sitting around the still-burning fireplace. Blaise grimaced, but had completed his task. The media had been contained. Nott slipped them a story about Pansy Parkinson having run away to muggle New York city and shunning magic, that she even married a muggle. He convinced them that Pansy's story was more newsworthy than Hermione's, using _minimal_ magic, at least, that's what they would tell Hermione.

"Can I, um, may I join?" A voice came timidly from the doorway to Draco's room.

"Of course." Nott nodded before either of the others could, "I'll call for some tea?"

Draco shifted as the small witched settled beside him, curling into his side without a second thought. She had selected a quidditch t-shirt that matched his own and fell just above her knees. It appeared sizes too big on her, but Draco still thought the green and grey shirt did her well. Her wet hair was pulled into a loose bun, secured at the nape of her neck. The wetness of her hear was slowly seeping into his own shirt, but he didn't mind. Draco draped a single arm over the back of the couch. If she leaned back, it would easily wrap around her.

Tea arrived and Blaise served the group, asking how Hermione took hers, but knowing how the others took there's. Hermione sipped slowly at her tea and hoped it would calm her into sleep. "Thank you." Hermione's voice croaked a bit, the only sign of her earlier meltdown, "Thank you for inviting me into your home. I promise I won't be a burden and I'll be out tomorrow, I just – I just can't be in that room tonight." Her voice quieted after it cracked.

Draco's brow furrowed and Blaise looked almost angry, leaving Theo, the best natured of the trio, to speak, "Hermione, you are not a burden. You are our friend. You can stay here as long as you like." She wrinkled her nose, not believing.

Draco felt a pang in his chest. The Golden Trio were lauded throughout the wizarding world as the exemplar of friendship and mutual support, but Hermione could not grasp the idea that she was someone to be protected and cared for. Evidently the male members of the Trio weren't as selfless as the world would believe.

"Granger, really, it's nice to have another person staying here who isn't all gloom and doom." Blaise chuckled, "Draco here almost overpowered us."

"That's nice, Blaise, but I don't know if I'll have more than doom and gloom to offer for a while." She muttered to her tea cup.

"Well then." Blaise set his cup down clumsily, unaccustomed to using his right hand, "I guess we'll just have to fix you up nice and quick then."

A pause in the conversation ensued, but Hermione could not bring herself to respond. She had been a right mess when she had looked at herself in the mirror. Half her hair had fallen out of her up do, her makeup was smeared down her cheek and somehow across her forehead, and her dress had a sizeable rip from her trek upstairs. Silently, she sipped at her tea, doing her best to ignore the worried glances all three boys tried to hide from her. Theo and Blaise did their best to distract Hermione, talking about Quidditch and poking fun at the Gryffindor team. Hermione would offer them a watery smile now and again; she appreciated their attempts, but nothing would improve her foul mood. Until Theo asked about Blaise's icepack, which had slipped from his hand for the umpteenth time.

"Well," Blaise cast a worried look at Hermione, "Our uninvited guests didn't seem to want to leave. Well one of them was, but Potter kept him there, apparently, he dragged the other one here against his will. He, not Potter, the other one, started shouting nonsense, so I punched him." Blaise had the conscience to look bashful. Theo and Draco looked at one another then to Hermione, waiting for the tears to come again.

A very indelicate _snort_ tore from Hermione as she broke down in hysterical giggles. Tears came, but they seemed to be happy tears; the boys were unsure and looked on in surprise. The girl pulled her knees into her chest and practically rolled around on the sofa, flicking tears away as she went. Finally, she calmed and clutched at her sides, "Ron always did have a hard head."

"Reckon I broke his nose." Blaise said in a faraway voice, still confused by the sudden shift in mood. "Heard Potter refuse to fix it, too."

Hermione excused herself to bed soon after that. Draco followed her to show her the few charms of his room, where extra blankets were, where his books were, and how to use something very similar to a muggle alarm clock. Just as he was leaving, Hermione found her voice, "I guess Hell froze over." Draco didn't have a response to that. When he had made that declaration, he had truly believed it. He left and she sat in the middle of Draco Malfoy's bed, toying with a small dragon figurine he had on his desk.

It was small enough to fit in her closed fist, although the tail stuck out a bit. The silver body was intricately carved, showing each scale and ridge along its back and wings, which were tucked into its sides. Hermione turned it around in her palm, admiring what must be goblin-made trinket. She turned it to face her and the eyes _opened_. The silver peeled away to reveal rubies where eyes would be. Neither she nor the animated figurine moved while the two stared at each other. Minutes ticked by, Hermione barely blinked as she waited for the dragon to make its next move. A toy turning into a real dragon and killing her would be par for the course for the year she had been having.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Hermione gave up her staring contest. Gingerly crawling off the bed, doing her best not to jostle the creature, Hermione crossed the room back to the desk. Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened a desk drawer, dropped the creature in, and slammed the door shut. She watched the drawer for a moment, half expecting it to erupt into a blaze of fire. Another ten minutes of staring at the drawer passed before Hermione climbed back into bed.

The darkly sweet smell she had smelt earlier in the evening enveloped her. It must be Malfoy's smell Hermione realized. She breathed deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. Her heartrate slowed bit by bit and the day ran away from her. Almost like chocolate, but not quite. Raspberry chocolate, maybe? Hermione pondered that smell until she drifted off to sleep.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"He broke her." Draco raked his hand across his face. The three Slytherins had remained in the common room after Hermione had left for bed. "I've never seen her _cry_ like that." He'd never seen anyone cry like that.

"Draco," Theo sighed, pressing his thumb and pointer finger into his eye sockets, "It's not like you've known her all that well."

But Draco did know Hermione that well. He had watched her be tortured on the floor of his home. It had been the first room he had updated. She had screamed, but she never caved, never begged, and never cried. Bellatrix Lestrange had done her worst on the girl sleeping in his bed, but the girl had never cracked. But one insolent, testosterone fueled teenager had reduced her to tears with only a few choice words. "He broke her." Draco repeated aloud.

The three boys sat in silence. Blaise had set about heeling his hand and Theo had found a book. Draco watched the flames, jealous that Blaise had had the chance to punch the Weasel before he had. At eleven, Blaise entered his room, muttering about needing a shower to get the Astoria off of him. At one, Theo set down his now finished book and left the common area. Draco stood and reached his arms over his head to stretch. With a flick of his wand, the narrow couch transformed into a bed a bit too large for the room. Draco couldn't bring himself to care as he flopped himself into his new bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N.** Hi everyone! I wanted to take a moment to respond to a couple things mentioned in reviews. First, I've always thought of the Slytherins as the more mature students. Most of them grew up knowing war was eminent, not to mention the familial pressures I imagine would come with being an heir to a pureblood family while most of the Gryffindors and other houses were free to have, well, a childhood. For these reasons, I imagine Draco, Theo and Blaise to act a few years older than Ron and Harry which is why they get along so much better with Hermione, a true old soul. Second, I really don't think we can ever underestimate Lavender's intelligence. Maybe it's because I've watched the movies rather than read the books most recently, but I just don't think very highly of her. And it serves my purpose to have her dumb and vain, the opposite of Hermione. And third, you'll just have to wait and see about the silver dragon and Hermione's lineage.

* * *

The morning was gruesome. Somewhere around three in the morning, Hermione had woken with a jolt, something in a dream she could not remember. All she remembered was falling and falling and then she was awake. She was disoriented and sat up trying to understand her unfamiliar surroundings. _Retrace your steps, Hermione. You were at the ball and then, and then, oh._ _Oh._ _Ron._ First there was only one tear, and then another and then a torrent cascading down her cheeks. She hadn't managed to calm herself until five or six, leaving her eyes bloodshot when she looked in the morning the next morning.

Hermione had thought she looked bad each morning, with the bags under her eyes and the lifelessness of her hair. But the morning after the ball was in a league all its own. Her bags had bags. Her hair hung, still half damp, with a kink in it from the bun she had slept in. She always braided her hair for sleep, that way her hair wouldn't bend like this. Her bones ached. Her eyes were red and hollow. She had washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her usual round of charms did very little to improve her appearance. Resigned that _this_ was the best she could do, Hermione left the attached bathroom and made for her trunk. Which wasn't here. She sighed. Hermione remembered last night. How could she not? After her late-night episode, her situation was burned into her memory. She knew she was in the Slytherin rooms and she knew that she had slept in Draco Malfoy's bed. What she did not know was how she would sneak up two sets of stairs to claim her trunk without anyone noticing. A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Draco – after last night it seemed foolish to call him by his last name – walked in with a pile of clothing in his arms. If he was surprised by her grizzly appearance, he didn't show it.

"How are you feeling today, 'Mione?" He hesitated before running his hand down her arm, an attempt at affection or comfort. Hermione inwardly smiled, _finally, something Draco wasn't good at._ Draco no longer knew where their line was. A year ago, they _hated_ each other, or at least they acted that way. At the beginning of the year, they struck up a truce. As the past month and a half dragged on they had fostered a tentative friendship, growing closer with each late night in the library. They were growing closer to being considered friends, but nothing in their relationship should have justified his actions last night. With all her friends from the Order around to comfort her, why had it been Draco to rush out after her and seal the doors behind him? When that Weasel had humiliated her in such a public way, his heart had plummeted. When she turned and scurried out of the Great Hall, he had known her world was crashing around her. He was familiar with that feeling; he had been living in his destroyed world since his fifth year and was only just beginning to piece the world back together. He had summoned Theo and Blaise to his side as soon as he saw Weasley down on one knee. When Hermione started her exit, Draco had barked for the two to prevent anyone from leaving the hall and he went after the girl. Last night was easy for him, comforting her, that is. Seeing her in such pain was one of the most difficult experiences he had endured since watching the same girl writhing in pain on the floor of his home.

"About the same as I look." She grumbled, fighting to pull her hair into braid.

"Then I guess you're feeling pretty good." He waved his wand and suddenly her hear wrapped around itself to form a simple, elegant braid, tying itself off with a pastel green ribbon. She admired his handiwork before peeking up at him ,"I spent a lot of time with my mother growing up." She was too distracted by his compliment to really care about the source of his braiding ability. "Anyway," He had lost his sudden bought of courage, falling back into the uncertainty he had felt upon his entrance, "Theo couldn't get up your staircase last night to find your uniform." Draco chuckled, "Then he finally remembered: he's a wizard. So he _accioed_ your uniform for the day. It's all right there. If you end up staying down here longer we can get your trunk. If you'd like that?" Hermione had promised she would be gone by that night. Her midnight sobbing, however, had made it very clear she was not ready to return to a room shared with her ex-boyfriend's mistress-turned-fiancé. Hermione nodded and felt warmth spread in her stomach when Draco's eyes danced in his otherwise blank face. "Alright then, we'll get that before the library tonight."

"Thank you." Hermione wrung her fingers together, "For everything you did last night."

"You deserved it, 'Mione." His eyes widened, "Not what the Weasel did. No one deserves that. I meant you deserved our help. Not that we're particularly equip-"

"Draco?" She cut him off, "Your babbling." She laughed at his jaw slackened, but her stomach growling refocused her attention, "Is it time for breakfast?" He nodded and she sighed, "Let's get this over with."

"Just, Hermione, just know," Draco paused, looking down at her, "You truly are worth so much more than that idiot. It might not seem like it, but last night might have been a blessing in disguise. Wait for the drama of it to blow over and you'll never believe the fresh chance you gained."

"You sound like you speak from experience." She mused, fiddling with her Gryffindor badge.

"Why do you think I spent my summer in America?" He arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, "You don't need to flee the country, though. You've done nothing wrong and the three of us will make sure no one tries to make you feel that way."

Draco waited in the common area while Hermione had changed into her uniform. Boys being boys had forgotten all about a bra, but she wasn't about to accio her underthings down two staircases and across a main common room. Placing a quick charm she thought she remembered one of the Patil twins mentioning across her chest, Hermione sucked in a deep breathe and joined Draco in the main room. In the common area, Draco looked to Theo, Theo nodded. The other two Slytherins joined them as they climbed the stairs and into an empty common room, through the portal and down to breakfast. With each step closer to the Great Hall her nerves frayed more and more. Draco walked closest to her, so close the back of their hands occasionally brushed together. Blaise and Theo walked ahead of the two, their heads pivoting, watching, waiting.

For the past month and a half, when Hermione and the Slytherins arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, the cavernous room would be almost empty. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables would be vacant. There would be a smattering of Ravenclaws, all with noses stuffed in books and heavily caffeinated drinks in hands. The Slytherin table always had exactly ten students or, as Blaise pointed out, the entirety of the house's quidditch team, already up from their run. At the staff table, there was only ever Professor McGonagall and maybe Professor Sinistra, still awake from the last night. This morning was different: people were ready for the sequel to the show they had witnessed last night. The hall was over half full. At six in the morning. An hour and a half before breakfast formally started. Hermione shuddered, but held her head high. She had done nothing wrong and would not be made to feel guilty.

Blaise and Theo led the way into the hall, doing their best to shield Hermione from the craning necks. Draco let his hand brush against Hermione's for just a bit longer than was natural, but neither was made uncomfortable by the contact. Hermione chanced a sideways glance at her Head Boy. He was always so confident. He walked straight and tall, face set in an uninterested mask and eyes sharp, daring anyone to approach him. Hermione drew on the energy she felt tingle through her fingers every time his hand brushed hers. She let the energy calm her as she pulled it up her arm and across her chest, down into the pit of her stomach. Drawing herself up to her full height, which was dwarfed by the three boys surrounding her, Hermione set her face into an indifferent mask she hoped mirrored Malfoy's. She briefly thought of attempting the steely glint in his eyes, but decided she would only look constipated.

Hermione held her blank mask until they reached the table. Draco stood behind his customary seat and nodded at Blaise. The Italian pulled out his usual chair and gestured for Hermione to sit. She slowly slid into the seat. Zabini pushed the chair in before taking the seat beside her, insulating Hermione from the rest of the eighth-year table. The boys took their spots, Blaise now on her right rather than her left. She swung her feet just a bit, trying to alleviate herself of some of her nervous energy, but accidentally kicked legs under the table. She could tell by Draco's dramatized lurch that they had been his. She blushed and settled her feet back under her chair.

The minutes ticked as more and more students filled the halls. The eighth year table filled faster than usual. First came the Ravenclaws with curious expression, but none of them said a word to Hermione, only shot her horribly hidden glances when they thought she wasn't looking. Next came Hannah and Neville, both of whom offered her small smiles of encouragement and of apology. Finally, just before the end of breakfast came the pair Hermione had been dreading: Fay and Lavender. Fay shot Hermione a look the latter could not understand while Lavender exploded.

"Oh, why did Won won have to leave?" She cried, "Little Rosie misses her daddy." Lavender rubbed her growing stomach. Rose had been one of Hermione's favorite names, not any more. "I suppose we'll see him soon enough. Hannah did you hear?" She pulled at the Hufflepuff's robe, "Molly invited me to Christmas at the Burrow! And Easter! She said she could care for Rosie once she comes, at least until I finish school. Such a relief!"

Hermione had been shrinking into herself with every word that spilled from Lavender's mouth. A hand settled on her left knee, rubbing soothing circles on the side. She looked up and met Draco's eye, "Ready to head to potions?" Hermione nodded, letting Draco pull her up from the table. As she rose, she drew closer to his chest. She caught that warm scent again, calming her nerves faster than she had ever managed on her own. The warmth she had felt on her fingers earlier radiated from him. She soaked it up, she would need all his confidence she could get. "Just think, 'Mione." He breathed into her ear, "A whole _hour_ away from that bint. We'll take our lunch outside and have only two hours of her to endure today." Hermione should be discouraging those kinds of words, but she only smiled and breathed in the smell of Malfoy, reveling in his nickname for her.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The day had passed quickly enough. Lavender was insufferable, flaunting her baby bump and the atrocious ring that overwhelmed her finger. A week ago, Hermione never thought she would be _grateful_ for Draco Malfoy. Over the past twenty-four hours, she found herself choking on her words time and time again. The night before, Draco had saved her from a very public meltdown. He had orchestrated one of the best media black outs she had ever seen, and that included back in fourth year when the ministry refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return. During the school day, he silenced any whispers with a quick glare and soothed her with the light pressure of his fingertips on the small of her back. In potions, Draco pulled her into the vacant seat beside him, leaving Fay as the odd one out.

Hermione didn't even bother trying to take her seat with Michael Corner in Transfiguration and instead followed Draco to his stool. Lavender had begun to tell Mandy Brocklehurst all about her planned wedding, about orange bridesmaid dresses and her disappointment in Fleur for not having her daughter sooner so she could be a flower girl. Blaise beat Draco to retaliation, and suddenly her stool turned to what looked like Jell-O, sucking the pregnant girl into it. Hermione hid her laughter behind her hand and Draco nudged her with his shoulder, encouraging her smile.

Professor McGonagall entered the room just as the clock struck ten. With a severe swoop of the eyes, the headmistress evaluated her classroom. Ms. Granger was not in her usual seat, having swapped with Michael Goldstein she now sat next to Mr. Malfoy. It been her hope that the two heads would grow closer during the year. Although she had not anticipated Mr. Weasley's deplorable actions to push her own plan along. The Brown girl was shrieking, trying to claw her way out of a large gelatinous desert. McGonagall pursed her lips into a thin line and waved her wand sharply.

The squish turned back into a stool with Ms. Brown sprawled on the floor, "Ms. Brown, I understand you have reason to celebrate, but in this classroom, I expect your undivided attention on the subject at hand: transfiguration." The girl squabbled about the Slytherins being out to get her, but the headmistress held up her hand to silence her. McGonagall turned her dark eyes on Draco and Hermione, "Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, did either of you see someone charm Ms. Brown's seat?" The two heads shook their heads no. Hermione hadn't, after all, _seen_ Blaise flick his wand rather than sense it. For all she knew, it had been Theo, or one of the Ravenclaws, or anyone. No one really liked Lavender, except for Ron, apparently. "There you have it, Ms. Brown, neither of my Head Students saw any assault on you, so there is nothing to be done. May we begin with class now?" Clearly satisfied with Lavender's mumbled answer, McGonagall turned back to face the class as a whole, her eyes momentarily settling on Hermione with a playful glint. Hermione adored that woman.

The class was simple enough. They worked in pairs to transfigure one another into having tools for hands. Hermione giggled as Malfoy tried to pick up his wand with both hands transfigured into pliers. He glared at her, but it was only half-hearted and had none of its own malice. Class ended and Hermione restored Draco's hands as he grumbled.

As the three Slytherins filed out with Hermione in tow, McGonagall couldn't help but worry about her favorite student. McGonagall had faith in Malfoy because Dumbledore had had it, it had been the late Headmaster's idea to make him Head Boy. McGonagall, although she trusted Dumbledore wholeheartedly, worried the Headmaster in the portrait had lost some of his experiences as his consciousness transferred from his corpse to his likeness behind her desk. The young Malfoy looked an awful lot like his father. Minerva could only hope Draco's heart came from Narcissa rather than Lucius, for Hermione's sake.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Whenever they had classes together, Theo and Blaise were close by Hermione's side. They had even tagged along to Care of Magical Creatures, lounging on the grass and soaking in the last of autumn's warmth, which Hagrid continuously shot Hermione pitying glances. Over the next week, Draco hardly ever left her side. She had had to fight with him for him to leave her for divination, and even then, he had only gone once Theo promised to keep a close eye on her. When it came time for the Slytherin quidditch practices, the trio dragged her to the pitch with them. She sat in the stands, doing homework by wand light while her boys swooped high above, leading their team through practice.

This stalking behavior continued all through the week. For the first few days, Hermione had insisted she could go to the library or their miniature common space and work while her Slytherins flew around on their silly brooms, but Malfoy had categorically refused to leave her without any defenses. "Defenses from whom? _Lavender?_ " Hermione had argued. She reminded him that she had survived a war without his protection. He looked at her pointedly and she stopped arguing. Draco knew she had survived a reptilian psychopath and all his sycophants, but high schoolers were a whole different breed of awful. And that Lavender bint was as awful as they came, flaunting her atrocious wedding planning and doting on her unborn child.

So there Hermione was, Friday evening, casting a warming charm around her and pulling out her Arithmancy text. She set to work creating her intricate number chart, adding and dividing her way across the rows. There was something elegant about Arithmancy, Hermione thought. It was often used to predict the future but in a very precise way with mathematical operations. Nothing like divination, which drew on chance of tea leaves falling a certain way inside their cups and relied on smoke swirling in a particular direction within a crystal ball. Arithmancy used definitive numbers to give specific answer, nothing was left to chance.

"You finally shook your security detail." A quiet voice lowered onto the stand. Ginny. The redhead had her hair pulled back into a high ponytail and was, for once, facing away from the pitch. Ginny sat sideways on the bench looking directly at Hermione. "Hermione, I'm so sorry my brother is such a git. I'd've slaughtered him if Harry hadn't gotten to him first. Dragged him all the way up to your common room by the ear to apologize." Ginny rushed, "But the snakes wouldn't let you out to talk to the boys. That one punched him," She pointed at Blaise who looked to be teasing Theo. Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair, "Right broke his nose. No one would heal it except for that insufferable girl. She screwed it up though, huge bump now. Mum says it serves him right. Thought she was going to send Blaise a sweater for reminding Ron of his place, I suppose there's still Christmas." Hermione laughed at the thought of Blaise in a Weasley sweater, probably green with a snake on it.

"Ginny, I was in no shape to confront Ron. The boys were looking out for me."

Ginny chuckled, "Who would have thought? The Prince of Slytherin protecting Hermione Granger." Hermione joined in, chancing a glance up at _the Prince_ who was hovering around the middle of the field with her other two boys. "Harry and I are on your side, just so you know. I've been looking forward to having you as a sister-in-law for six months and now I'm stuck with that cow."

"Ginny," Hermione sighed, "It's not Lavender's fault. Not entirely. I know he's your brother, but -"

"But he's the one at fault. I know." Ginny's brow furrowed, "Anyway, if your body guards are comfortable with it, you could hang out with me in Gryffindor towers during their practices. I can't imagine you get much work done here!" A smile broke out on the red head's face.

"Because I'd get work done with you?" Hermione scoffed.

"Hermione, I'm _drowning_ in work." Ginny raked her hand down her face, pulling on her bottom lip. The two girls laughed. Hermione felt a weight lift from her shoulder, relieved that Harry and Ginny hadn't deserted her.

The two chatted away for most of practice. Ginny wanted to know what the Sytherins were like. Hermione did her best to give honest answers, but soon felt defensive of her boys as Ginny would wrinkle her nose or curl her lip in disbelief. Hermione told her about how she thought Blaise sung in the shower and about how Theo couldn't tie his shoes without magic. All trivial things and apparently not what Ginny had wanted to hear, "What about Malfoy?" she giggled, looking her oldest friend dead in the eye, "You said you slept in his room. Is he a snuggler?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"He sleeps in their common room, not with me, you fool." Hermione swatted the girl with her long forgotten parchment, "He's quiet. Reserved. He just sort of watches the three of us, Blaise, Theo, and I, that is. We really just work on our assignments together, sometimes we'll play chess. He's trying to teach me, but I'm atrocious…"

With Hermione only answering in abstract half-answers, the conversation started to lag and Ginny's eyes flicked toward the pitch. Hermione had thought sharing how sweet and kind Draco had ben to her would be inappropriate, like breaking his confidence. Hermione gave the younger girl her blessing to watch in on the last ten minutes of practice. Deciding she would get little done in such a short period of time, Hermione turned her eyes skyward as well.

The team had split in two. Scrimmage time. Draco had caught sight of the red bundle of hair when the Weaslette entered the stands. He had promptly flew over to Theo and Blaise, "Weaslette's here. Modified scrimmage." The three boys smirked at one another before flying off in different directions to inform the team.

Hermione had never understood Quidditch stands. She remembered the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year when Mr. Weasley was ridiculed for his high seats by none other than the boy whose bed she now slept in. The game was played in the air, so wouldn't higher seats be better? She had almost had her hat taken off when the Irish had flown by; they were so close to the action in those undesirable seats. Now, her neck hurt from craning up to watch the team play and it had only been a few minutes. This hadn't happened in those nosebleed seats.

"They aren't playing her?" Ginny mused, "Hermione, what are your snakes playing at? Taking a first year and then having her be Malfoy's back up. She's the only first year to make a team in the last couple hundred years."

That was wrong. Hermione quirked her eyebrow and scanned the skies with more attention. The boys had been dragging her to practices all week. They might vary the drills during the first portion of practice, but Draco and Theo always ended practice with a scrimmage and the lineup never changed. Except today. Today, Malfoy and Lucy were on different teams. Hermione felt a secretive smirk pull at her lips. One of the ringleaders must have seen Ginny and they had changed their teams to hide their secret weapon. Hermione could have told her friend what she knew, but as she watched Draco race Lucy for the snitch her mouth snapped shut. The least she could do for Draco was hide his secret.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"That's quite a plot you boys have concocted." Hermione mused as she walked back to the castle with her Slytherins. Ginny had left right after Draco had caught the snitch, off to find Fay to worry with. The Slytherins were good, even Hermione could see that.

Blaise slung an arm around her shoulders, "No idea what plot you're talking about Granger." Hermione rolled her eyes, "Damn good one though, wouldn't you say?"

It was a damn good one, Hermione mused. She pulled the extra set of robes Draco had slung over her shoulders tighter. They smelled like him, the only reason she kept them on with their terrible green trim and serpent crest. The Slytherin team would be phenomenal. Gryffindor wouldn't know what hit them.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N.** Hi guys. So I very recently noticed fanfiction removes my formatting to separate scenes. I changed how I show scene changes and hopefully that stays!

The next week was surprisingly easy for Hermione considering her entire world had come crashing down. She had stopped all correspondence with Ron, but had redoubled her efforts with Harry who had promised to attend the opening Slytherin/Gryffindor quidditch game that weekend. He had taken her new living arrangements very well, and Hermione felt a weight lift from her shoulders: if Harry approved, surely she wasn't doing anything wrong, spending so much time in the Slytherin dungeons.

As the rest of Hogwarts moved on from "the incident," her Slytherins began to give her more space. Instead of attending quidditch practice – "Good," Blaise had joked, "No more Gryffindor spy" – she spent her evenings with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room. But homework sessions with Ginny were never very successful, but not because the redhead goofed around like her brother had. The younger Gryffindors were _fascinated_ with Hermione and she felt bad brushing them off, but she had transfiguration work to do. And a potions essay. And a runes translation. And she had to cut story time far too short each night. She pledged to return when things were less hectic to properly encourage the younger students to follow her academically-focused path.

It was no surprise that the week flew by given that she was bouncing from the Slytherins to class to Ginny to work to the Slytherins. But she wouldn't have it any other way. Having no free time meant she had no free time to worry about "the incident."

The second Saturday of November brought with it clear skies and a brisk wind. "Perfect quidditch weather!" Blaise exclaimed as the four sat for breakfast. Theo scarfed down his eggs and fought Blaise for the last serving of sausage. Draco, however, only pushed his oatmeal around in its bowl. Hermione played with her lip before mimicking a movement he had done for her a thousand times these two weeks whenever he felt her tense.

His thigh was clenched under her hand. Hermione rubbed slow circles just above his knee, like he had done for her. She felt his eyes flicker briefly to her, but she refused to meet his faze. In the same moment, his leg relaxed and his hand gripped hers. Had she overstepped? She had let him do it for her, but Ron had made it very clear during their relationship that certain things only went in one direction. Was this one of those things?

She blinked. He had laced his fingers in with hers, giving them a light squeeze. His hands were warm, but also somehow cool, at least when compared to Ron's. Ron's hands had always been unbearably hot and often moist. Thankfully, Draco's were comforting and dry.

"Oi!" Theo's voice penetrated her comparison, "You two? You coming?" Hermione and Draco looked up from their breakfasts to find Theo and Blaise several steps away from the table, looking over their shoulders.

Draco gave her fingers once last squeeze before releasing them to stand. He straightened his robes and looked down at Hermione. Tentatively, he reached out that same hand and helped her stand. It was not an uncommon motion, but the way he cradled her hand in his for just a second before dropping is sent sparks though her body unlike anything she had ever experienced.

The walk down to the quidditch pitch was a silent one. Theo and Blaise hummed with excitement for the first game of the season and rushed on ahead. Hermione hung back to walk in line with Draco. Even almost an arm's length away from him, she could feel his nervousness. She didn't need to feel the tenseness in his leg to know it was there.

"It's going to work you know." Hermione whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

"You don't even know what _it_ is, Granger." He scoffed, "You hate Quidditch, even _I_ know that."

It was her turn to scoff now, "Please, give me some credit, Malfoy. You boys dragged me to your practices for a week. I notice things."

"Even so, what makes you so confident it will work?" He said it sarcastically, but Hermione could hear the plea in his voice. He needed someone to tell him it would be alright.

"When has a plan I've supported ever failed?" Hermione channeled Draco's usual cockiness.

"Let's hope you didn't jinx it, Granger." He offered her a half grin, "I think someone's waiting for you." Hermione's forehead wrinkled. But then she saw him beside the stand's entrance, talking amicably with Theo and Blaise. _Harry._ _Harry!_

"Harry!" Hermione pulled away from Draco to run to her old friend. She pushed the other two Slytherins out of the way and Harry enveloped her in a hug, squishing her small body to his in a way only Harry could. It calmed her and comforted her at the same time, it was familiar. Her life had been lacking the familiar lately.

"It's Ginny's first game as captain!" He chuckled into her hair, "And I had to make sure these snakes were being good to you! Have to look out for my two girls!" He stood back to hold her at arms length, "How are you doing, Hermione?"

It was a loaded question. Just a week ago she would have crumpled under its weight, but now she could honestly answer, "I'm alright. Just fine, actually." What she didn't say was that she was beginning to feel better than "just fine." Harry watched her skeptically for a moment before nodding.

"Merlin, Granger," Zabini pretended to be massage a sore arm as his shadows drew closer, "You sure you don't want to play? You'd be an amazing chaser with speed like that and your small frame? You'd slip right through the other team."

Draco elbowed his friend sharply in the ribs while Theo thumped him upside the head, scolding, "You idiot. She's a Gryffindor, _we'd_ be the other team."

Blaise jaw slackened, "That's right. Forgot our little pet was a lioness. Guess we did that good a job at taming her."

Hermione felt Harry bristle and knew she had to intervene before the boys came to blows, "Blaise, that's enough. All three of you." She reprimanded, "Go to the locker rooms and change for your little game." The three protested, fighting that she wasn't their mother and couldn't boss them around, but in the end, they trekked into the stands to meet the rest of their team.

"It was a joke, Harry." Hermione crossed her arms, preparing for Harry's famous temper tantrums.

He only shook his head and appeared to work to soften his frown, "I know. I'm just – I guess I'm not used to his sense of humor. It's incredible to think. In one short week, the snakes have become your knights-in-shining-armor and Ron has become the villain." Hermione laughed, pulling her red and gold scarf a bit tighter around her neck to keep out the chilly November air as they climbed higher into the stands, "Be careful, Hermione, they're still Slytherins even if they _seem_ nice." They sunk into their seats beside Neville in the Gryffindor section, "I wanted to come after you, at the ball, that is, but I was containing… _the situation_."

"Don't worry, Harry." Hermione sighed, looking around the half empty stands. It was times like this when the loss of last May was most obvious. "Draco found me quick enough and the boys took very good care of me until I returned to my right mind." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at her pitiful showing in the immediate aftermath of _the situation_. Sure, Ron had been her anticipated future, but she was strong and she didn't need him.

"Draco is it?" Harry looked sideways at her. Hermione's cheeks pinkened, but she was saved from answering by Ginny leading the Gryffindors onto the pitch, followed quickly by Draco and the much smaller Slytherins. Harry lost interest in interrogating Hermione soon enough, gluing his eyes to his girlfriend instead. His obsession with quidditch had reached a new level now that he played professionally.

Madam Hooch walked to the center of the pitch. Draco and Ginny flew to her. The captains shook hands – the most civil handshake ever shared between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin – while their teams found their positions. Blaise hovered close to Draco, clearly the center chaser. Theo was off to Blaise's left and little Lucy hovered to Blaise's right, but not nearly as far away as Theo was. Ginny pushed back ever so slightly, taking her place across from Blaise, and Draco rose himself and drifted to the right, just outside of Lucy. Madam Hooch released the bludgers and the snitch.

"What the hell is Malfoy doing? Seekers get hurt that close to the action." Harry mused, but Hermione was too busy watching Draco. His eyes danced, trying to keep track of the little, golden ball. To his right, Lucy was doing the same, trying her best to keep up with the Snitch's bobs and leaps, but she lost it quickly. The little girl couldn't help but worry she wasn't cut out to be a seeker. She caught Malfoy's eye and nodded. All doubt fled her mind, that was a problem for another time, anytime other than her first Quidditch game. Madam Hooch lifted the Quaffle. She blew her whistle and the game began. Hooch threw the ball in the air. The chasers all watched the ball, waiting for it to reach them. Before the ball climbed to the players. Draco plummeted.

Hermione gasped, seeing that flash of white hair fall towards the ground. But then he pulled out, Quaffle tucked safely under his arm. He rushed forward down the middle of the field. Theo sprung after him, Blaise following, having defaulted to the left. Little Lucy flew higher and higher, slowly spinning, looking for the Snitch.

"Goal! Slytherin!" Lee Jordan shouted into his magical microphone, "In a stunning turn of events Draco Malfoy, Slytherin seeker for the past six seasons, has taken control of the Quaffle and scored! With Malfoy playing as chaser beside his fellow eighth years, Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott, the Slytherin team is much more formidable. The chasers must be big, you see, and every other member of the team is younger than sixteen. Speaking of young, the youngest Slytherin member this year appears to be a first year playing Malfoy's customary position of seeker. Does she have the chops to fill such shoes? What's her name anyway?" Lee paused, "Ah yes. Oh. What's that Headmistress? I can't hear you. One moment I'll come up there in a moment. Yes, I'm back, the new seeker's name is Lucille _Dolohov._ "

Hermione blinked. Draco, Blaise and Theo stopped their offensive assault and turned towards the staff stand where the commentator perched. Hermione hadn't been so worried for Lee since the Weasley twins stopped using him to test their products. The three eighth years looked _murderous_. Little Lucy, as Hermione knew her, stiffened on her broom, but kept her head of a swivel. _There. There it was._ A little twinkle behind the Gryffindor keeper had caught Lucy's eye. _The snitch._ She slid her eyes stealthily to her red-clad counterpart, a blonde fourth year, he was searching down by the Slytherin goal posts. He was remarkably unperturbed by the announcement of her last name. In the lull of the game, with every eye on her, she lurched forward. Lucy coaxed her broom into a sprint, gripping so hard she was certain her knuckles were white beneath her gloves. She knew the Gryffindor seeker would have seen her break, but she didn't dare to look back. The snitch was flying in her direction, albeit to the other side of the pitch. She pivoted and took off after it. _One. Two. Reach out your hand and –_

"She's done it! Only ten minutes into the match and – um – and Lucy has caught the snitch! She beat Harry Potter's record from only seven years ago! Slytherin wins! 160 to 0. This is the first time Slytherin has defeated Gryffindor in a head-to-head match in seven years! Looks like Gryffindor really needs Harry back." Hermione could see McGonagall glaring severely at the announcer, clearly livid he had given up Lucy's secret.

"Fucking Death Eater Spawn!" Jimmy Peakes shouted as his broom collided with Lucy's broom, knocking her off, "That's for my brother. Your good for nothing father killed 'im."

Everyone jumped to their feet. Harry cursed Peakes under his breath. Hermione and Ginny both clasped their hands over their mouths. And Draco, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, rushed through the air and caught the girl with his left arm around her stomach with just seconds left before she hit the ground. The entire stadium let out a breath. He slowly lowered her down, pulling her into a soft embrace as soon as he dismounted his own broom.

Lucy's body shook and Draco whispered soft words into her ear. Draco hoped Hermione had recovered enough for her crisis, now he had another girl to protect. When her sobs only grew stronger, Draco easily lifted her into his arms and carried the sobbing girl to the safety of the locker room.

"PEAKES!" Ginny's shriek pierced the silence. She rushed to the boy and showed him the fury of a Weasley woman, "We do not! I repeat NOT! Attack young children! ESPECIALLY after the final whistle! Leave dirty antics like that to the Slytherins!" Hermione knew if they weren't so frightened by Ginny's outburst and the preceding events, Theo and Blaise would have protested the admonishment, "And if you think you got off scot free, YOU DIDN'T! You're off the team! I will not have cowards like you on MY team. And I'm sure there is worse waiting for you! Hermione, I'm sure, is quite disappointed in you. Hermione?" The redhead turn in Hermione's direction just long enough for Hermione to nod, "See! I'm sure she'll take points. And McGonagall! You'll be lucky if you have a free night for the rest of the year with all the detention she gives you. But none of that will come close to the fear you should be feeling about facing Malfoy." The girl's lips pulled back into a masochistic sneer, one Malfoy would be proud of if he wasn't too busy comforting Lucy off the field. Jimmy's face whitened and his eyes flickered between the three points of discipline: Hermione, McGonagall and the closed Slytherin locker room.

"I – I –" Jimmy stammered, but Hermione couldn't hear him. She had left the stands as soon as Draco had caught Lucy. She had been able to hear Ginny because Ginny was so loud. Jimmy was quiet, finally realizing what he had done. Hermione would say the Gryffindor courage had drained from him, but she hated to think her house's trademark trait would lead anyone to assault a child.

A simple _alohamora_ was all it took for the door to swing on its hinges and Hermione rushed into the Slytherin locker room. She followed the sound of quiet sobs to the back of the locker room. Draco had shed the outer layer of his quidditch robes and was clutching the small girl in his arms as if his life depended on it. The little girl cried into crook of his neck, her arms looped around the same. Draco ran his hand comfortingly down her back, reminding Hermione of his actions just a week earlier.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, drawing the attention of both Slytherins. She couldn't ask her intended question, though, because little Lucy had sprung from Draco's arms to wrap her arms around Hermione's waist.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Miss Head Girl! I – I – I shouldn't have come to Hogwarts! Draco warned me against it and look at what I've done."

Hermione wrapped her arms around the small girl, noting the sharp departure from the younger girl's display in the library. The Head Girl hushed the first year, "Lucy, sweetie, none of this is your fault." Hermione cooed as she stroked the girl's jet black hair. It was exactly the same color as her father's, Hermione couldn't help but note, "Absolutely none of it. And sweetie, please call me Hermione."

"Miss He – Miss Hermione I've caused such a mess of things." She buried her little face into Hermione's abdomen.

"I promise, it's not your fault." Hermione settled the little girl into Draco's side, "I'll be right back. I'm going to go talk to the Headmistress about rearranging your sleeping quarters."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Enter." McGonagall sounded defeated in her summons. Hermione pushed the door open to enter the Headmistress's office. The older woman leaned on her desk with her elbows, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, "Ah Miss Granger." McGonagall gave a soft sigh, "Mr. Peakes has been given nightly detention for the remainder of the year and a letter has been sent home to his family regarding his actions. I issued a firm warning that if his actions were to continue I would have to expel him from the school." Hermione nodded, "But I'm sure you aren't here solely for that update. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hermione sat in one of the headmistress's visitor seats, "Yes Headmistress. That sounds like a fair ruling for Jimmy. But I came to discuss Lucy's living arrangements."

"Well Miss Granger I can assure you we have taken additional precautions to guard Miss Dolohov's room. Professor Slughorn is adding more wards as we speak now that her identity is common knowledge."

"I'm sure you have taken every precaution, Headmistress, but I have it on good authority that Lucy did not feel comfortable in the Slytherin dormitories before Lee's revelation this afternoon. She is, however, very comfortable around Draco." The headmistress raised one delicate eyebrow at Hermione's use of Draco's given name. "I was hoping she could move into the eighth-year rooms, in the Slytherin portion."

McGonagall hesitated, "Miss Granger, the thought had crossed my mind, but I thought it improper to house an eleven-year-old girl with three eighteen-year-old men."

An idea struck Hermione, "What if I was to move down there with her?"

"Miss Granger, you speak as if you haven't already." Hermione's mouth opened into a silent O and her eyes widened. The headmistress had a wry smile playing on her face, "Miss Granger, the house elves are very astute. They informed me of your informal change in quarters as early as last Monday morning." Hermione's cheeks colored, "I suppose if you were to officially live down in the Slytherin section of the eighth-year dorms we could move Miss Dolohov into the eighth-year dormitory. I will speak with Professor Slughorn about his thoughts."

Hermione extended her gratitude to the Headmistress as she stood to leave, but the Headmistress's words caught her, "And Hermione, as much as I hope to promote inter-house harmony, please do be careful. Between the two of us, I allowed Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, and Mr. Zabini back this year because I needed to include Slytherins if I hoped for that inter-house peace I mentioned. They were simply the best options." Hermione understood her unspoken implications. _They were the best options, that did not mean they were_ good _options._

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

 _Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

 _Happy Christmas time, Mr. Malfoy. This is merely a friendly reminder that you have six months to secure a marriage agreement should you wish to retain the entirety of the Malfoy fortune. Should either of these not be the case, half of the Malfoy family's accounts will be transferred to your closest living relative, Edward Remus Lupin, your first cousin once removed. The wedding ceremony need not have taken place before your nineteenth birthday, but a contract to wed must be signed by that date, 5 June 1999. The legal wedding ceremony must occur by your twentieth birthday, 5 June 2000, lest the entirety of the Malfoy family's accounts as well as the deed to the affiliated Manor and other properties, including Malfoy Apothecaries, be transferred to the same relative, Edward Remus Lupin. We await the notification of your impending nuptials._

 _Hoping you are well,_

 _Alicia Bennet_

 _Office of Magical Estates, Ministry of Magic_

 _Bloody fantastic._ Malfoy grimaced at the parchment he had removed from Aquila. The eagle owl perched beside his goblet, staring at Hermione, despite the brunette's complaints. Draco pushed his plate towards the owl, who happily turned her attention from Hermione to the eggs on the crystal, and took his time scanning the Slytherin tables. They were all _too young_. He sighed. Even the eldest female in Slytherin, Sarah Kahn, would just barely have turned eighteen by his twentieth birthday. Draco couldn't trap her before she had a chance to experience the world. He couldn't trap her in the cage he was in. He doubted that her father, a muggle, would even allow it.

The Malfoy family raised their heirs to believe in marriage for power, for influence and for wealth. It was from these convictions Lucius Malfoy I set about the timeline weighing on Draco's shoulders. The thought was the current Master of the Malfoy fortune would still be alive and able to produce another heir if the first's marriage was unsatisfactory. In the wizarding world, muggles were useless to any of these ends: they had no notable power or influence and any wealth they had would suffer through an exchange fee to be of any use. This unwritten rule of shunning muggle wives evolved into the full-blown prejudice Lucius Malfoy IV had tried to foist onto young Draco. Thankfully, Narcissa Malfoy insulated her son to the best of her abilities.

Narcissa Malfoy had grown up in the oldest of pureblood families: the Blacks. The Blacks were more powerful and wealthier than the Malfoy's ever dreamed for themselves. It had been a coup for the Malfoy line when Lucius had secured the hand of Narcissa Malfoy, the most eligible and youngest daughter of Cyngus and Druella. She never appeared unhinged like Bellatrix nor was she outwardly sympathetic towards muggleborns. Had Lucius or his father, Abraxas, realized Narcissa was simply a better actress than Andromeda the marriage would never have been allowed.

Foolish Draco shunned his mother's teachings of kindness for the better part of his life, opting instead to cling to his father's coat tails. Draco embraced the old Malfoy lessons of shunning all things muggle and followed his father in persecuting the same. The war, particularly Voldemort's residence in the Manor, had shattered Malfoy's perception of pureblood supremacy. Even still, Draco refused to relinquish the Malfoy mantel. It was a matter of pride.

Draco wracked his mind, flicking through images of his former housemates. It was late to be entering a marriage contract with an of-age Slytherin female. Their fathers had already secured them husbands, most of which were from outside the country in attempts to save family images from the ruin they were now in. _Ravenclaw women did not often enter marriage contracts._ Draco leaned back in his seat and raked his eyes along the Ravenclaw table to the seventh years. _Luna Lovegood. Samantha Knox. Antoinette Brute. Felicia Moore. Alice Frank. And Mandy Brocklehurst and Sue Li at the eighth-year table._ Crazy. Severe. Rude. Uncultured. A miracle she was sorted into Ravenclaw in the first place. Unattractive. Shall we say, _busy_. Draco couldn't lower himself to consider a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor.

"Draco, can you please stop your owl from staring at me?" Hermione whined, staring down the bird. Draco left his thoughts to give the bird a quick scratch behind the ear and, with the scratch, its cue to leave. "Thanks." The girl sighed, returning to her meal.

Slughorn stood from the staff table and jovially waddled down the aisle between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Draco prayed the teacher was merely leaving the Hall, but Draco had never been in the favors of whatever higher beings there may be. Slughorn ambled to the eighth-year table and forced himself into the gap between Hermione and Draco. He injected himself so far into the crevice that the table's corner protruded into his portly stomach and Hermione had to lean away to avoid being run over.

"Draco, my boy! Happy holidays! Do give your mother my best when you see her." Slughorn chirped. "And Ms. Granger, the same to your parents. I do look forward to meeting them at graduation this year." Both students sat ramrod straight at the mention of their parents. Neither had been very forth coming about that particular subject.

"Actually, Professor, I won't be seeing my mother this break, she's still on holiday on the continent." Draco spoke slowly, "I'll be staying in the castle." Hermione nodded in agreement. She hadn't known Draco was staying as well, she had been looking forward to having their small common room to herself.

"Well then I do hope you see you at my Christmas party this Saturday evening!" He chirped, "You as well, Miss Granger! Though it is quite unexpected for you not to be visiting with Mr. Potter or Mr. – oh, well, I suppose that makes sense… Any who, I hope you would accept my late invitation to the party! I heard the elder Mr. Creevey was most excited to ask you!" On that note, Slughorn bounced the way out of the Hall, presumably down to the dungeons to prepare for their class.

"The sneaky git." He muttered, watching the professor's silhouette fade into the distance. Draco recognized he was trapped into attending the party. Now not only did he need to find a wife, but also a date.

Hermione groaned, drawing Draco's eyebrow up his forehead. Hermione cupped her forehead in both hands and looked to the sky. She silently wondered, _why me?_ before meeting an amused grey gaze. "Colin was obsessed with Harry from the moment he set foot in the castle. It appears he has shifted his fascination to me now that Harry is out of sight."

"Hermione," Draco chuckled, "I wouldn't be surprised if the kid was obsessed with you in your own right rather than simple transference." Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco begrudgingly admitted to himself that she had a very flawed perception of herself. But then an idea struck him, "And if you want to avoid Creevy," Draco muttered nonchalantly, "I suppose you'll just have to go with me." Hermione blinked. Then blinked again. And again. He could see her shifting her jaw, perhaps moving her tongue within her mouth. Her eyes watched him carefully, trying to judge his motives. "Or not," Draco sat back in his seat. Hermione caught him fiddle with the signet ring prominently perched on his finger, "I might not even go." The ring reminded her of Marvolo Gaunt's, large and gold, but with a family crest instead of he resurrection stone.

An amused smile spread across Hermione's lips. _Was Draco Malfoy nervous?_ "Did Draco Malfoy just ask Hermione Granger out on a date?" Hermione thought some more. A soft red blush subtly spread onto Malfoy's cheek as he tucked his chin to chest, suddenly finding his half-eaten toast incredibly interesting, "I do suppose you and your friends have done so much for me. I _guess_ I could go with you." His head napped up.

"It's not a date, Granger." Draco snapped, but Hermione saw the way his eyes twinkled just a bit brighter. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven."

"Pick me up in our shared common room?" Hermione scoffed. Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm not sure that counts as picking me up."

The pair finished their meals and Draco stood from his seat. He held his hand out to Hermione. Hermione eyed it, but ultimately decided that if she was to be his date she shouldn't inspect every action of his for an ulterior motive and took his hand. He pulled her up, stepping back to allow her space to stand. The two walked off to potions debating whether or not Draco could actually "pick up" Hermione if they shared a common room. Neither Draco nor Hermione noticed Blaise's mock outrage at being left behind or hear Theo's taunting about fifty galleons.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Don't forget an extra jumper for the train!" Hermione called from her spot on the couch. Blaise groaned from his bedroom.

The semester was finished and Hermione could finally breathe a sigh of relief. For the first time since term began, she had no assignments, no essays and no deadlines. To celebrate, she curled herself around her newest book, _Ancient Runes for the Modern Witch and Wizard_ , in front of a crackling fire. She had kicked off her shoes the moment she had descended the stairs. Crossing to her room, she slid on a Slytherin Quidditch t-shirt that had somehow come to be in her possession and a pair of loose sweatpants. She did not plan on moving from the couch until she absolutely had to.

"Scoot over." Malfoy had arrived, book in hand. He picked up her legs to slid underneath. Hermione was completely shocked when he lowered her feet down onto his lap. He cracked open his book, _Potions from Peru, Paraguay and Panama: the Best Kept Secrets of the Western Hemisphere_. "Theo, don't forget to pick up the new team uniforms over holiday." Draco ordered without looking up from his book.

They were the picture of normalcy for anyone who did not know their story. He leaned against the arm of the couch, supporting the weight of his hand with his arm. She rested her feet in his lap, unconsciously toying with a sock with the opposite foot, as her body stretched across the sofa for her head to rest on the other arm. They both buried themselves in their books, barely glancing up to bid their dormmates a happy holiday when they passed to leave.

The light from outside dimmed, plunging the underground common room into darkness. Hermione looked away from her book for just a moment to cast a charm bringing light back into the space. At some point earlier in the evening, Lucy had tiptoed across the living area to her room, content to practice her transfiguration and silently spy on the two older students. Draco glanced up at his couch mate to find her staring at his bare forearm.

"You glamour it?" Hermione's eyebrows quirked in a way Draco often saw when she was considering a particularly difficult spell.

"You glamour yours." Draco said matter-of-factly. He set his book aside, knowing this line of questioning would necessitate a conversation.

"I do." She nodded, her face like steel, "But then again, mine was _carved_ into me against my will. I didn't _choose_ it."

Draco wanted to think Hermione hadn't met to injure him with her words. She wasn't wrong, there had been a time he was thrilled to have the ugly mark burned into his skin. Hermione seemed to realize the weight of her words as she chewed her bottom lip. "I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He nodded.

There had rarely been an awkward silence between them. In their earlier years, silences had been rare. When they did materialize, they were contemptuous. This year, silences were more common, neither of them being particularly boisterous, but never had they been awkward.

"Can I see it?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco's eyes snapped to hers. No one like her had ever asked to see it. Pansy had asked immediately. Crabbe and Goyle begged him, but he shrugged them off, knowing them to be too stupid to keep his secret. But Hermione was far from stupid, nor was his mark a secret anymore. She didn't want to see the mark out of reverence. He didn't know _why_ she wanted to see it? Perverse curiosity? Her innate thirst for knowledge? Either way, she had asked. "If I can see yours." Both hardened their eyes, waiting for the other to relent first.

Hermione's Gryffindor courage persevered. She shifted to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing Malfoy. Deliberately, the Head girl rolled her sleeve up, but kept her arm at her side, clearly waiting for his action. With a sigh, Draco flicked the fingers on his right hand and reopened his book, trying to dedicate his attention to it.

There it was. The dark mark. It stood so bold against his pale skin; it looked so out of place. The skull seemed to laugh up at her mockingly with its snake-tongue curling around it before turning up to hiss at her. This was the closest she had ever been to a dark mark without feeling afraid, for obvious reasons. Tentatively, she ran her fingers over the mark. She could see him pretending not to look at her. His skin was so smooth. Had she not seen the mark with her own eyes, her touch could never have detected it. "You can't get rid of it?"

He sighed, pulling his arm away from her to place his book down. He flicked his fingers again and the mark was gone, "That's the best I can do."

"At least a simple glamour charm works for you." Hermione stretched out her arm to him.

He eyed it with indifference, looking as if he had grown bored of her injury, but gently grabbed it when she went to pull away. Usually, even the brush of her robes sent pinpricks of pain through her arm. As Draco gingerly pressed his fingers to the edge of the scar, Hermione felt none of the usual symptoms.

 _Mudblood._ The angry wound glared up at the pair. The word itself failed to hurt, but the fact it was _etched_ into her body by a cursed _knife_ by that _psychopath_ …who's nephew was currently inspecting it. Draco's face was unreadable. "It won't go away." It was a statement, not a question.

Hermione snorted, much like he had the other night, "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Give me a bit of time. I can make it fade. Maybe with time I could get it so light no one would ever notice it." She tried to persuade him not to bother. If Madam Promfrey couldn't how could Draco? "Hermione." He whispered. Hermione shivered and blamed it on the drafty room. "Please. Let me do _something_ to you that isn't terrible." He looked sincere. His eyes bore into hers, pleading with me to give him this one chance.

"You've done quite a bit of good in the past few weeks." She bit her lip, a bad habit she had had since she was young. It was the reason she would've needed braces had she not shrunk her teeth magically. _What harm could letting him try to help do? He'll either forget about it once school work picks back up or fail at finding anything._ "Fine. You can _try_. But I'll have you know, Madam Pomfrey tried for months and nothing has been successful."

Draco dropped her hand and settled back into his corner of the couch. He picked his book back up and flipped through its pages. "Don't doubt me, Granger. I always rise to the occasion."


	11. Chapter 11

"Hermione!" Little Lucy knocked gently on Hermione's bedroom door, "I have something for you!"

The eighth year Slytherin dungeons had proven very accommodating. After her conversation with Professor McGonagall last month, Hermione had walked straight back to her commons. Already, there were two more doors off the small sitting room, one for Hermione and one for Lucy. Hermione had arrived just in time to watch Professor Slughorn levitate her chest out of Draco's room and across the room to one of the new rooms, situated just beside the fireplace. Hermione had blushed a furious red; not only did McGonagall know, but now Slughorn as well? And Hermione would bet Slughorn did not assume Draco had slept on the couch. Theo and Blaise were distracting Lucy from earlier events with a game of Exploding Snap; all three were still in their Quidditch robes. Draco, having stripped himself of his heavier robes, watched the trunk float with a steely glint to his eyes.

Hermione's room was as soft as the Slytherins' rooms were hard. The dungeon seemed to disallow her favorite shade of Gryffindor crimson, just one of the many quirks of the castle she supposed. Instead, the walls were a soft gold, like the morning sun. There was a large bay window on the far wall, appearing to open to view the lake's surface and mountains beyond. The floor was a dark hardwood, but her bed and the walls' trimming were pure white. The bed was draped in sheer white curtains to match her new bedding. She would sooner expect to see this room in Hufflepuff than in the Slytherin dungeons. But she appreciated the warmth the coloring and, she suspected, brought back to her life. The Slytherins had kept her together, but she missed the kindness and openness of her Gryffindors. Getting a straight answer out of Draco Malfoy was about as difficult as riding the Ukrainian Ironbelly out of Gringotts.

"Yes, Lucy?" Hermione had her wet hair piled high onto her head in a messy bun. She stared at her new armoire, but for the life of her could not find a single thing to wear. Only Slughorn would invite students to his formal Christmas party the night before. The little girl set a large, flat box on Hermione's bed and jumped on beside it, "I helped pick it out! Open it! Open it!"

Hermione often forgot how young eleven really was. By Lucy's age, Hermione was already helping her friends defeat a Dark Lord. Lucy, who had grown up in the belly of the beast, finally had a chance to live her childhood and live it she did. The Head Girl smiled at Lucy and sat on the other side of the box, indulgently peeling off the cover.

Inside lay a simple green dress. Hermione lifted the dress by its shoulders. It was long-sleeved and velvet. The sleeves and the chest were a light green, but the column skirt was a much darker shade that cinched with a gold bar just below her breasts. There was a plunging back, stopping at the crest of her bottom. "Lucy where did you get this?" _How much did you spend on it?_ The dress might be simple, but the fabric screamed old money.

"Doesn't matter! Put it on." She jumped up and ran from the room.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

He hoped she liked it. Draco tightened his tie around his neck, wringing it into submission. He laughed to himself. If only Lucius could see him now: primping to pick up Hermione Granger for a party.

Lulu didn't even bother knocking. She skipped into his room smiling, "You're going to absolutely love it."

"Did she like it?" Draco met the girl's eyes in the mirror. She nodded, a mischievous glint to her expression. He decided not to acknowledge it. Watching the young girl, something on his desk caught his eye. The silver dragon, usually sprawled into a crawl, was curled into a ball, snoozing away. "Lucy, did you touch that dragon?" Lucy shook her head, her curls bouncing. She reached out a hand to touch the figurine. Its eyes snapped open, startling her. Bright red rubies. Never had a Malfoy dragon opened his eyes to reveal rubies. Emeralds, definitely. Sapphires, sure. Diamonds, occasionally. Never rubies. Only one Gryffindor had been close enough to the dragon to even possibly trigger it. And he had to meet her in five minutes. That was something to deal with later, but certainly before June 5.

"Alright, Lulu." Draco spoke softly to Lucy as she sat on his bed, staring down the dragon, "Hermione and I will be back late tonight. I want you to stay down here. I'm going to cast wards preventing anyone from entering. Just as a precaution. Try not to stay up too late."

"Draco," The preteen rolled her eyes, "You aren't my dad." _Thank Merlin for that._ "Go get your _girlyfriend_ it's almost seven." Draco chucked at Lulu's new epithet for Hermione, she had been using it since they had agreed to go to Slughorn's party together.

"Ya ok, Lulu. Better cut back on those foolish romances."

Lucy followed Draco from his room, wished him a good night and locked herself away in her own room. As he lowered himself into the chaise lounge before the small Slytherin fireplace, Draco couldn't help but shake his head. _Hermione Granger? His "girlyfriend?"_ _Ha!_ Hermione Granger was _the_ girl wonder of the Wizarding World. She, along with the other bumbling two-thirds of the golden trio, was as close to royalty as their community had. _Her_ with _him_? Draco chuckled ruefully, but a small voice in the back of his head muttered, _rubies_. Before he could pursue that thought further, he froze.

Hermione had decided to emerge from her room at that moment. His breath caught as she fiddled with her hands in front of her, her eyes focused on said hands, clearly uncertain in the borrowed dress. The dark green accentuated the sharp contrast between her paleness of her skin and the darkness of her hair and eyes. The column cut stretched her small figure a few inches taller. She looked stately, regal, like the royalty the Daily Prophet had proclaimed her. If the Malfoys hadn't had blonde hair and grey eyes for centuries, Draco would have said she looked like one of them with such an aura, but alas, her coloring was more akin to the Blacks. Draco stood from his perch, catching her attention. She raised her chin just high enough to meet his gaze. She blinked once, twice, and then the fire that was Hermione Granger, war heroine, appeared. The set of her jaw became defiant, the glint in her eyes swelled, her head tilted further in an attempt to make her seem taller. She was not a Malfoy nor a Black nor any other mindless society woman. Draco would be foolish to think otherwise.

"Did you buy this dress?" She accused, "I'll have you know, Malfoy, I can afford my own clothing! I don't need your charity. I was just about to start transfiguring a sundress when Lucy brought this in and since Lucy brought it I couldn't decline it an-"

Draco cut her off by placing a single finger against her lips. She pursed them in a way that made heat coil in his stomach. "Granger, sweetheart," Draco murmured, "You're rambling." He chuckled as her pout grew more pronounced. Not only had he cut off her rant, but he had used one of his sarcastic nicknames for her. She hated that, "I didn't buy you a thing. It's an old dress of my mother's from before she became a Malfoy. She wears it in all sorts of pictures and portraits – which considering the society she grew up in, the repetition meant a lot." Hermione's brow creased, "I found it in her old school trunk while cleaning out the Manor's basements."

"You mean the dungeons?" She quipped from behind his still raised finger. The fire was still burning in her chocolate eye and she wanted her displeasure noted.

"No, I don't mean the dungeon," he toyed, lowering his finger and wrapping his arm around her waist to begin the trip to Slughorn's party, "I had the dungeons removed as soon as Lucius was locked away and I had the power to do so." Hermione nodded, letting the information sink through her hair, wild despite being pulled back into an elaborately braided chignon at the base of her neck.

"Either way, I'm certain your mother would be appalled by my kind disgracing her favorite dress."

"And _I'm_ certain she would be honored." If Hermione didn't know better, she would have thought Draco pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Regardless, Hermione settled easily into Draco's side. The boy, recognizing her comfort, pulled her closer. She breathed in the smell of tart chocolate she had come to know as simply Draco. The pair fit together well as they walked, arguing about the merits of dragon blood in potion making.

The night passed easily. Draco even dared to say he had fun. When they arrived, forks dropped as people took in the sight of the Gryffindor clad in green beside the Slytherin with the red tie. " _Christmas Colors!_ " Draco had proclaimed when she commented just after they had left their dorms. Hermione worked almost as hard as Draco to avoid Professor Slughorn, they took turns playing lookout and finding hide outs. Draco found himself laughing easily with this woman and she seemed to laugh back. For just a few hours, she was not one of the World's saviors and he was not the descendent of those who had threatened it.

"Quick!" Hermione whispered forcefully, "Behind here!" Hermione, having seen Slughorn tire of his conversation with Alice Moore, a Hufflepuff, and turn to survey the crowd, pulled Draco behind a light curtain. She chuckled, remembering how Harry had found her in a similar position hiding from McLaggen. Draco cast her a sideways glace, clearly thinking she had finally lost it. She quietly explained, doing her best to phrase it in a manner to make her seem less pathetic.

"You went with McLaggen?" Draco chortled, "He was an utter dunderhead! A genuine dunderhead! Even for a Gryffindor!"

"I'll have you know, I could hardly stand him! That's why I was hiding after all! I brought him to get back at -" Hermione stopped herself. Draco understood.

He hesitated for just a moment, taking stock of the girl beside him. She had meekened with her unfinished sentence and wrapped her arms around her own waist, holding herself together as if she would fall apart otherwise. Draco wrapped his arms over hers and pulled her to his chest. They hadn't been this close since the night of the Halloween Ball. "You're a bit of a dunderhead, too, you know." Hermione's indignant squeak brought a smile to his lips, which broadened when she did not pull away, "I only mean, you need to let him go, 'Mione. He's worthless and certainly didn't deserve you. Leave him to his vapid cow and their spawn." Hermione unwrapped herself from her own embrace. He thought she was about to pull back from him, but instead he felt her wrap her petite arms under his outer robes and around his waist, drawing herself closer.

Hermione had hugged a fair few boys in her nineteen years. Billy Queen in fifth grade when she and her friends had cornered him during recess. Victor Krum back in forth year just before the Durmstrag ship sailed away. Harry and Ron frequently. The older Weasley brothers, too. None of them made her feel the way Draco did. Billy had been awkward. Krum had been overwhelming, being that he was significantly older physically. Harry and the Weasley's had always been brotherly. It was something that had troubled her when her and Ron dated. It was like hugging her brother, kissing her brother. Maybe that's why it was so uncomfortable after the adrenaline of war had died out. Presently, Hermione was not in the arms of these clumsy boys, she was wrapped in the strong embrace of Draco Malfoy.

His arms wrapped around her possessively, but she did not feel objectified, something that had also been a problem with Ron. He rested his chin atop her head comfortingly, allowing her to feel the pulse in his carotid against her forehead, the sound lulling her into a calmer state. He angled his body protectively between her and the curtain so that if it were ripped away no one would see her, but she did not feel cornered. After the incident, Draco had saved her from complete and utter embarrassment. Between their living arrangements and shared classes, the two spent more time together than she had ever with Ron or Harry in a given year. Draco was passionate about Quidditch, just like her other two boys, but he never let it interfere with his school work. He was intelligent. Really intelligent. He might put on a good show in the library or the Slytherin common room fretting over his charms and history of magic, but his marks were always pristine. Sometimes, those marks were better than hers, but that didn't bother her like it had in past years. She was proud of his marks, proud of him. He helped her with potions and defense against the dark arts, she helped him with transfiguration and muggle studies. He showed her each day that he was more than the school yard bully she had once known. It hit her like a train, not only did she _trust_ Draco Malfoy, but she _liked_ Draco Malfoy. But why, what had changed? Was it Stockholm Syndrome taking hold?

"Why are you being so nice to me this year?" Her thoughts slipped through her mouth before she could stop them. If Draco had taken a breath, made the slightest of sounds, he would have missed Hermione's question.

A thousand different reasons flickered through his head. _Because you're more pleasant away from the Weasel. Because I'm forever indebted to you. Because I never wanted to be mean to you. Because I've wanted to be your friend since we met. Because I remember every exchange we've ever had. Because my father is finally locked away. Because my mother would like you. Because you make me want to be a better person. Because someone needs to save me._ "Because I finally can." He whispered just as quietly as she had asked. A bit louder came the second reason he gave. "Plus, I think I was mean enough to you in our younger years to make up for a few months of kindness." He chuckled softly. She could feel the laughs reverberate through his body. They slowly died off, leaving the pair in silence.

He met her eyes and felt a tug in the pit of his stomach. It felt almost like apparition. The tug grew, traveling up his spine. His head grew hazy and his eyes seemed to only want to focus on Hermione's lips. Her eyes flickered down to her lips. _Sarah might have been a nice girl, but Hermione was a nicer girl. She was the nicest girl. So nice that she'd sacrificed her teenaged years to battle evil and save the world. Sarah had remained neutral, but Hermione had fought and she had won. Sarah had pretty waves and dark brown eyes, but Hermione had tumultuous curls that she had finally learned how to tame and expressive chocolate eyes. Sarah was dimwitted, but Hermione, Merlin, Hermione was anything but. Sarah was almost as frail as the previous Malfoy wives, but Hermione had a full figure, despite her petite size. Hermione was kind and brave and loyal and – and perfect. The Malfoy line_ _ **needed**_ _Hermione._ _ **He**_ _needed Hermione. What a sick twist of fate. His ancestors would roll._

Draco was looking at her _oddly_. Hermione was beginning to feel uneasy under his molten gaze. She hadn't felt uneasy around him since the second week of classes. His eyes were wholly focused on her face, but they were glassy, he was clearly not seeing her. She played with the hem of his shirt, trying to distract herself from that intense gaze. He blinked once, twice, and then he bent his neck to brush her lips with his. Really just a ghost of a kiss. Hermione stood her ground and Draco brought his lips back to hers, letting them linger this time. Both of their eyes were open, silently staring at each other while they were joined by the lips. It should have been awkward, those tentative, wide eyed, unreciprocated kisses, but they weren't. They had always been awkward with Ron.

When Hermione still did not pull away in disgust, Draco was emboldened. He let his eyes flicker shut and slid one hand up to the base of her neck, keeping the other firmly pressed at the small of her back. Hermione was acutely aware that beyond this thin curtain were a few dozen people, but she decided to not let them worry her and slid her eyes shut as well. She had always slammed her eyes shut with Ron, less uncomfortable when she couldn't see. Now, she was too busy worrying about how tall Draco was, how lean and yet how muscled Draco was, how _hard_ Draco was for her to feel uncomfortable.

She pulled one arm and then the other from around his waist. Draco stiffened, afraid he had lost her. Ever since that fateful night two months ago, Hermione had become a fixture in his life. Had he pushed her too far? Thought of their relationship as more than it was? This _was_ out of nowhere, they had only paired off out of desperation and now he was forcing himself on her. He had to stop this, even if it was the last thing he wanted, even if the dragon's eyes glowed red. He felt the guilt press against the back of his neck. He was about to pull away, but something was holding him there. It wasn't guilt, it was her arms.

Hermione smirked as she felt Draco try to pull away and held him in place as they kissed behind the curtain. Reassured, he took his second chance of the evening and pulled her closer to him. She melted into his chest and snickered when she felt the famous Malfoy smirk dance across his lips, pressed to hers. Her snicker swelled into a chuckle and then to giggles. She broke the kiss to throw her head back in laughter. Draco was panting. Never had a simple kiss knocked the wind from him so abruptly. He arched his eyebrow at her, causing another peel of laughter to rip though the girl. Draco, unhappy she was laughing at him, sucked forcefully on the pulse point on her neck. She gasped and hinged back at her waist, doing her best to give him a reproachful look, but failing miserably as more giggled bubbled through her lips.

"You're going to get us caught, Granger." Draco muttered against her throat, placing butterfly kisses here and there. She responded with a moaned _Shuddup, Malfoy_ as he turned her body and pushed her against a wall, quickly following.

Malfoy ran his tongue lightly over Hermione's lower lip. She granted him access immediately, tugging sharply on the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a quiet moan from the boy. He pushed her harder into the wall, bumping her legs apart to make room for one of his knees. Hermione let his knee prop her up as her own knees began to slacken. His body molded to hers, curling warmly around her form. He tasted like spearmint toothpaste and smelt like raspberry chocolate. It reminded her of home, of safety, of comfort.

Something came over Hermione when Draco's knee grinded against her core. Hermione leaned hard against him, making the blonde step back, and bit down on Draco's bottom lip. Draco _growled_ and slammed Hermione back into the wall. His hands groped her behind and he kneaded her with his knee. When _Draco_ grinded _his_ engorged penis against her thigh, Hermione didn't mind in the slightest. She moaned, which he caught with his lips. "Alright, Granger, we've got to go, you're going to get us caught."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Did you see that Hufflepuff freeze when Slughorn cornered him?" Draco chortled.

"He was so committed! He didn't even move when the other two carried him to the Hospital wing!" Hermione laughed.

Draco had led her through passageway after passageway, reaching their dorm in record time. Conversation had flowed easily on their way to their dorms, but as soon as she reached the bottom of the Slytherin stairs, he was on her again. Draco pushed Hermione against the stone wall beside the exit and crashed his lips to hers. They warred for dominance, but Hermione, finally winning, pulled back.

"If Lucy walks out and sees us, she'll be traumatized." Hermione gasped between quiet whimpers as Draco turned his attention to her neck.

She could have sworn she _heard_ his eyes roll in his skull. Nonetheless, he pulled her lips back to his and pulled her into his room, slamming the door shut before pushing her against the piece of wood. His lips never broke from hers, moving with the same fervor as behind the curtain. One hand cupped her bum, the other knotted in her hair as he fought to reclaim control. This was one battle she was ok with losing. She made sure to get the last laugh, though. Feeling emboldened by his kisses, Hermione flicked her fingers and vanished their dress robes. He halted at the skin to skin contact, pulling away from her for the first time.

Hermione instantly regretted her magic. She had never been much to look at. Her chest wasn't that large, and her curves weren't too pronounced. Her stomach was not flat, but the rest of her was still overly bony. Her bum, still clutched in his hands, was not perky and she was amazed Draco had found something to hold onto. She was the dictionary definition of average. Ron used to offhandedly comment about easy spells that could help correct her deficiencies. When she had mentioned how his words hurt her, he had responded with, " _Hermione_ , I'm only trying to help us be happy! I'll perform them if you don't want to." She lowered her chin to the side, suddenly very interested in the baseboard of the wall. Hermione could feel the tears bristle at the back of her eyes.

Draco's hands left her bum. She'd done it now. One hand fell on the slight curve of her hip, the other gently pulled her chin, forcing her to look at him. His smirk grew. And his lips descended on hers. He pulled her with him as he stepped slowly backwards to his bed.

He sat with a _thump_. She looked down at him, uncertain what to do next. She hadn't been taller than him since second year. He rested his hand on the back of her thigh. Watching her face for any sign of doubt or fear, Draco pulled her leg up to kneel beside his thigh. He paused, still cautious. She looked nervous and uncertain, but not angry or upset or any other emotion that would stop him. He repeated the process with her other leg so that she straddled his lap. Another pause to ensure she was comfortable with this new position and then his lips were on hers once more.

Draco had assumed she was inexperienced. She was the Gryffindor Princess, _virginial_ and _pure_ seemed to go along with that title. Not even the dirtiest of tabloids had questioned the heroine's virtue. If she was, though, Draco couldn't tell. She met him kiss for kiss, moan for moan. Her hands cupped his face, his still held her bottom. He liked her bottom, each cheek just slightly too large to fit in his hand. He took a chance, bit her lower lip and pulled on it. She pulled away to look at him, and abruptly crashed her already-damp panties onto his tented boxers. Draco thought he was going to come right then and there. He was no inexperienced, prepubescent boy, but this woman was something else entirely. _The minx_.

"You want to play it that way, hm?" Draco's eyebrow arched and Hermione worried she had gone too far. His hands drifted from her behind to her hips and suddenly, she was turning through the air.

Expertly, Draco had flipped her to lay beneath him and somehow managed to rid her of her bra in the process. He latched his lips onto one nipple, kneading the other with his hand. Hermione mewled under him, rocking her hips back and forth against the growing bulge in his boxer shorts. Draco released her breast and returned to her eye level. He let the side of his nose brush against hers, his breathing hard on her cheek.

"Granger," He huffed, "If you're going to start something, you better be willing to finish it."

Hermione blinked. The cloud of lust lifting. Ron had always said the same thing whenever their trysts progressed beyond light snogging. She knew what to do, but she never liked it. Ron had taught her those few times they had been together during their relationship. She knew how to finish that something, but it always hurt. She pushed him away from her and he froze, worried his less-than-serious comment had crossed a line. Hermione flipped over onto her stomach and stuck her bottom into the air.

Never, did Draco think he would give a second thought to an attractive woman sticking her rear in the air for him to take, but he did with Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger didn't just enter such prone positions if she knew any better. She had assumed the position on her own and she looked damn good in it, but her eyes were clenched shut and her hands tensely fisted as if waiting for the pain.

"Hermione?" Draco could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. The girl opened her eyes to look over her shoulder at him and he saw it. He hadn't seen that look in her eyes since their third year: fear, "Have you ever, um -" She nodded, "And why did you pick this position?"

The doubt returned to her eyes tenfold as she scrambled to sit upright, covering her breasts with her arms, "Why? Do you not like it? It's how, it's how he showed me and I – he liked it so I thought you would and –"

"Hermione, you looked like you were preparing to be tortured." He would know. He had seen her stare down his Aunt Bella with less fear in her eyes. Draco found an old t-shirt of his and offered it to her as he sat beside her. She mumbled a thanks and shrugged into the shirt, relaxing noticeably.

"I mean, it hurts the first few times. Every source I've consulted said it will probably hurt." Hermione muttered, looking at her fingers which she knotted in her lap.

"The first few times, not every time, Hermione." Draco wrapped his larger hands around hers. He set to work relaxing her digits. "Clearly the Weasel didn't see that your needs were met."

"No." She shook her head once, "No he tried. And Lavender raved about him all through sixth year. It's me. It must be me. I – I'm a terrible lay!" She was growing more frantic with each word. Her body tensed and her eyes flashed, "That's why he left me for her! I have no idea what I'm doing and I don't even like it. He always said I acted like it was a chore and – and he must have grown tired with me pouting so he went to her! He never would have cheated if I could have been better."

Draco abruptly grabbed the girl, flipping her onto her back once more. He crushed his lips to hers. He rested his weight on his forearm by her head and his knee beside hers. With his free hand, he pulled her leg up and out, making room for his non-weight-bearing leg to rest between hers. Draco ran his hand up her calf, over her knee, down her thigh to toy with the hem of the shirt, just long enough to cover her rear. The kiss was forceful, but he did he best to keep it comforting and reassuring, rather than trying to plunder her mouth for all she was worth. This woman had no idea the impact she had on men.

Finally needing breath he pulled away, "You did," a kiss on her cheekbone, "Nothing wrong," the other cheekbone, "Hermione," her nose, "The fool," He moved his attentions down to her neck, starting at her earlobe and working his way down to the junction between her neck and her shoulders, "He treated you like one of those blow up dolls," his words tickled her neck as he ran his lips over her pulse point, "You're stunning, 'Mione, don't let _anyone_ make you doubt that."

"Then why wouldn't you have sex with me?" He climbed back up to look the girl at eye-level.

"Hermione," he chuckled, "Do you think I stopped because I didn't _want_ you?" One abrupt nod, "Granger, you're daft. How on earth can you think I didn't want to fuck you all," a kiss on her nose to mitigate the harshness of his words, "night" a kiss on her forehead, "long?" His lips met hers again. To emphasize his point, Draco ground his still uncomfortably hard cock between her legs. He let the pressure, both from his lips and below his waist lessen until he was only gently caressing her lips.

"Then why didn't you." She spoke. It took Draco a moment to remember the last words he had said. _What does this witch do to me?_

"'Mione," He chuckled darkly against her lips, "I told you, you looked miserable." He gave her another soft kiss, "I don't make a habit of forcing myself onto miserable women. You weren't ready for anything more than this, and that's fine. It's much more than I expected out of tonight."

She thought that over for a moment, "But I am ready. I can feel it. It's all sticky."

Draco had to choke back another laugh, now was not the time, even if she did sound years younger than she was, "There's a difference between being ready and being _ready_ , Hermione. Until you can think about having sex without dreading it, you won't be ready."

"How do I do that?" She was looking at his chest and nothing else.

"With time." He rolled off of her, content that his job there was done.

The two lay in silence, side by side, each following their own thoughts. Hermione, trying to coax herself out of fearing sex. Pavarti and Lavender always raved about it. Cocks and fingers and tongues, oh my! They would return to their shared dormitory past curfew most nights and regale, loudly, their conquests of the night. They said it felt wonderful, that it was life changing. Hermione only thought it hurt and worried about accidental pregnancies despite her diligence in taking her potion. Draco, berating himself for turning down perhaps his only opportunity to fuck Hermione Granger. _Now was not the time, Draco. You did the right thing, Draco. It's for the better, Draco._

"I – um, well, thanks for a great night," Hermione began to extract herself from his bed, "I couldn't have survived Slughorn without-"

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Granger." He wrapped an arm around her waist, preventing her from standing from the bed.

"To my room." She looked over her shoulder at him confused, "I'll return your shirt after it's washed."

"Get back here, you daft woman." Would she refuse him? Would she comply only out of guilt?

Hermione settled back in beside him, their arms bumping together due to the smallness of the bed. Draco reached out and pulled her over, nestling her into the crook of his arm. "Night, 'Mione." He pressed a small kiss to her hairline and allowed sleep to claim him. But not before he felt her hand rest on his chest and one of her lithe legs intertwine with his. The last thing he heard before he slept was "Goodnight, Draco" from the last witch he had ever dared to hope he'd share a bed with.


	12. Chapter 12

When Draco awoke the morning after Slughorn's party, he was alone. He almost thought he had imagined the events of last night. Or the lack thereof.

No, he had spent the night with Hermione Granger. That he was sure of, the bed beside him had a Hermione sized imprint. It was small and shallow, but it still smelt like her. Fresh and clean with a hint of something floral. Where she was now, though, was another question.

Draco slung his legs over the side of his bed, wobbling a bit when the blood rushed to his head. He stretched and contorted his body to wake it from sleep. It had been a very good sleep. Never had Draco thought sharing a double bed with someone could be so comfortable. Finally, awake, he slipped out his door to the common area. It must be nearly ten, Lucy would certainly be awake. Blaise and Theo would be engaged in a game of wizards' chess if they hadn't left for the holiday. He rolled his eyes to himself. Blaise and Theo had been keeping tally of their chess games since the age of seven. Currently, the score stood at 1,324 to 1,443 with Blaise in the lead. Then again, Theo had never been as good at detecting deceit as Blaise. For a time in fourth year, the pair made Draco referee their games. It had been the worst year of his life.

His breath caught in his throat. There she was. She was leaning against the arm of the couch, facing him, with her long, tan legs crossed at the ankles on the cushion next to her. Draco wanted to run his hands up her legs like he had last night. A book rested in her lap and she perused it while gnawing at her bottom lip. Draco wanted to pull on her lip. She was still in his shirt and if he looked at just the right angle, Draco could see she was in the same black lace panties as last night. The woman was a tease.

Draco cleared his throat. The girl startled, crossing her legs tighter and destroying that perfect triangle through which he had caught sight of the lace. She closed her book and clutched it to her chest, hiding her breasts, which were just wild enough that Draco could tell she hadn't found a bra yet.

"Good you're up." She spoke abruptly. Matter-of-factly. In a way that did not scream, _let's try again._ "About last night," She bit her lip and seemed to think through her next statement, "I'm sorry I put you through that."

"Put me through what exactly, Granger?" He asked slowly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to deduce where this conversation was going. He leaned his hip against the arm chair closest to him, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"My nonsense with Ron. You've done your part, more than your part; it's not your job to heal my broken heart. It was wrong of me to throw myself at you." She held his heavy gaze. He did not speak up, "I think I had too much to drink at Slughorn's party, but that's no excuse. I'm just glad you stopped it when you did. Before either of us regretted anything." She paused again, "Still friends?"

She looked so worried he couldn't bring himself to argue. He couldn't bring up that he didn't see her as a job. Didn't see her as a fixer-upper. He couldn't bring up that _he_ had kissed _her_. That it was the best night he had had in years. He couldn't bring up that she hadn't drank more than a glass of wine last night. That he had drank just a glass more.

"Of course." He nodded. His eyes chilled. His jaw set. His forehead smoothed. The Malfoy mask fell into place. "I think I'll go down to the pitch for a bit. Is Lulu here?"

Hermione shook her head, "She's with some Ravenclaw in the library, preparing for exams." Yesterday, he would have taken the mickey out of her for rubbing off on the young girl. _Studying for exams in December, who had heard of such a thing aside from Hermione Granger_. Yesterday, he wouldn't have a pit rolling around where his stomach ought to be while he changed and walked down to the Quidditch Pitch.

 _You threw yourself at me?_ Draco knew he wasn't delusional. He had made the first move. She had reciprocated. _Too much to drink_. He remembered he had had to finish her wine. She had wanted to stay sober in case Slughorn managed to corner her. _"Glad you stopped it when you did."_ That one hit him like a freight train. She was glad he stopped. He had been so careful not to make her uncomfortable, not to move too fast, not to take advantage. Apparently, he had failed miserably at at least one of those goals. The realization had a bitter aftertaste as he took to the sky, quaffle under his arm.

What did it matter though? He flew past the half-pitch mark. What did it matter if Hermione Granger didn't want him? He was in the scoring area. She was only one girl. How many girls had he had throughout the years? Hoards of Slytherins, a smattering of Ravenclaws, even a Hufflepuff or two. He hurtled the quaffle through the right hoop. So what if Granger could've been the Gryffindor notch on his bedpost? He swooped to catch the ball before it hit the ground. He flew through the air, approaching the other end of the pitch. So what if he had _wanted_ her to be the notch since as long as he knew what a _notch_ was? He propelled the quaffle through the left hoop. So what if she was _glad he stopped it when he did_? He dove to catch the ball and took off for the first set of hoops. There were other girls. There were other Gryffindors. He could carve out that notch, find himself a proper Malfoy wife, and do it all before his birthday. He threw the quaffle through the center hoop. He always rose to the occasion.

He sat perched atop his broom, hovering just outside the scoring area, breathing hard. He would be friends with Hermione Granger. And that would be all. The quaffle thumped as it hit the sand below.

What did it matter if the dragon had red eyes?

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

When Hermione awoke the morning after Slughorn's party, she was not alone. She lay on her side, back to her bedmate, using his bicep as a pillow and clutching his arm, which was wrapped around her, to her chest. She let her thumb graze over his forearm without a thought, enjoying the way his arm was soft but firm. The dark mark lay sharply on his otherwise perfect skin. He had been on the wrong side of the war. He had fought for Voldemort. And yet she found herself snuggling closer to his body. Releasing her grip on his arm, Hermione turned in his embrace. She slid one of her hands under his back and rested the other on his chest. If his arm had been firm, his chest was solid.

Draco Malfoy had never looked so relaxed. Lines had fallen away from his face, his mouth rested slightly agape, and his brow was as smooth as porcelain. His breathing was slow, in time with the rise and the fall of his chest.

Hermione allowed herself one small indulgence. Softly, ever so softy, she traced the length of his chest, following the lines of his muscles with her fingers. Continuing up his neck, she slid her hand into his hair. She marveled at how soft it was, how straight, how unknotted. It was the exact opposite of hers. She twisted and turned her fingers, letting his hair flow though her fingers, without a single snag. She _had_ to find out what kind of conditioner he used.

Abruptly, the silence she had been enjoying was shattered. She spun in bed, truly shocked she didn't pull half of Draco's hair out of his scalp. He would never know how lucky he was that his hair was so smooth. The dragon figurine on Draco's desk had _breathed fire_. A little column of _flame_ danced across the desk from the creature's mouth, its ruby eyes fixated on Hermione.

With another burst of angry flame, it hit her. She was in Draco Malfoy's bed. In Malfoy's arms, stroking Malfoy's hair. He had almost, _how had he put it_? _Fucked her all night long_. Draco Malfoy fuck Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy fuck her. _Malfoy_ fuck her. And the little dragon was clearly not happy about it. Hermione sprung from the bed, giving the dragon a wide berth lest its flames reach further than the edge of the desk, and fled the room.

She paced the common space for almost an hour, trying to figure out what she would do. She had slept with a Malfoy. She had almost _slept_ with a Malfoy. And his toy dragon did not like those facts. But he wasn't just Malfoy. He was Draco. He was one of _her_ Slytherins. Sure, she might not be ready to _fuck him all night_ but they had grown to be friends, hadn't they? Such good friends that he would tolerate her unwanted advances last night. Certainly, they were friends if he had done that, if he had tolerated her. If he had indulged her.

This classification made Hermione feel better. She and Draco were _friends_. The key was separating _Draco_ from _Malfoy_. That was a good start. And she could save that friendship. If Hermione Granger could help save the free world she could save her friendship. All she needed to do was apologize and promise Draco it would never happen again. Good. A weight lifted from her shoulders. They would be alright. She wouldn't lose Draco.

Next task: figure out what that figurine was. Draco didn't seem like the type to keep trinkets so it must serve some purpose. Hermione walked over to the small bookshelf that had appeared with her door. The books were all very Slytherin, excepting the fairy tale book Hermione had found in the main common room and some romance novels that Lucy adored. She skimmed the spines and pulled out a handful of volumes.

She flipped quickly through _Magick Moste Evile._ The pages made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she found nothing that bore even a passing resemblance to the dragon in Draco's room. _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_ and _Curses and Counter-Curses_ both proved useless. _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ almost gave her an answer. One of its later chapters discussed capturing the aura of an animal and configuring that aura into an object, but that was all the book discussed before moving onto harnessing the aura for defensive purposes.

Hermione had finished combing through the four books before nine. And Draco still wasn't awake. Lucy had breezed through the common room as she was reading about advanced petrification, off to the library to meet a friend. Draco needed to wake up. Once Draco woke up she could fix everything and then follow Lucy. Certainly, the library would have answers. Rolling her eyes at Draco's still-closed door, she returned the books to their shelves, selecting another.

 _Pureblood Directory: Updated for 1997_ came in a large black tome and was the work of a distant Rowle relative, Euphemia Rowle, commissioned by Lord Voldemort himself. It contained biographies of "The Sacred Twenty," those pureblooded families who had fought on the losing side of the war. Hermione flipped through the contents. Hermione clucked her tongue when she saw Guant was listed among the pure, although an asterisk beside it led to the note of "Extinct." _Greengrass…Lestrange... file that one away for later…Malfoy._ She flipped to the page and a large crest stared up at her. _Black, green and silver. Fitting._ Serpentine creatures twisted and curled around a large shield, boring an ornate letter "M." Beneath the shield, a banner breezed, proclaiming " _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper._ " Purity Will Always Conquer. _Typical._

Before Hermione could embark on her eleven-page journey into the Malfoy Family, a throat cleared from across the room. She hadn't heard his door open or him enter the room, but there he was, standing half naked in only a few yards from her. Hermione was suddenly very aware that she was still only covered by _his_ shirt and her _panties_ from last night.

"Good you're up." She spoke abruptly, trying to sound braver than she was. The thick book barely covered her chest. Ron had always hated when she walked around without a bra, said it wasn't proper. "About last night, I'm sorry I put you though that."

"Put me through what exactly, Granger?" He asked slowly, his eyes narrowing. He wanted to draw this out, evidently. Embarrass her for what she did. Make her admit to it.

"My nonsense with Ron. You've done your part, more than your part; it's not your job to heal my broken heart. It was wrong of me to throw myself at you." He did not contradict her, "I think I had too much to drink at Slughorn's party, but that's no excuse. I'm just glad you stopped it when you did. Before either of us regretted anything." She hesitated. His face had fallen to his perfect mask. Hermione could not read him, didn't know if she had adequately apologized, "Still friends?"

"Of course." He nodded, "I think I'll go down to the pitch for a bit. Is Lulu here?"

"She's with some Ravenclaw in the library, preparing for exams." He was changed and gone in under three minutes.

Hermione's shoulders sagged. One goal accomplished, so why did she feel so … unresolved? He had forgiven her. He had confirmed that they were friends. Draco wasn't one to say things he didn't mean. Then she remembered her other goal! Flipping back to her page, she returned to reading about the boy who had just left.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Teddy!" Hermione squealed, whisking the boy out of Harry's arms. The boy babbled excitedly, "Harry, could you have put any more layers on him? The child is going to get heat stroke!"

"Andromeda would kill me if I returned him with a cold!" Harry defended himself, unwrapping the first of Teddy's three coats.

Hermione laughed at her best friend, escorting him into the Great Hall. They had arrived just in time for Christmas Eve lunch. When Harry's owl had arrived, that morning telling her of his surprise visit, she had been over the moon. Ever since Sunday morning, the week had dragged and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that it had everything to do with Saturday night. She had apologized, certainly that should have fixed it. He had stopped them before the point of no return, surely, she hadn't done that much damage.

The four great tables of the Hall had been removed in favor of two large, round tables, just large enough to accommodate the professors and the fifteen students that had stayed behind. One more seat appeared to accommodate Harry's arrival; McGonagall had been thrilled to receive his owl last week. Hermione took her usual seat beside Draco, pulling Harry into the seat beside her and perching Teddy on her knee.

"Is this Tonks's son?" Professor Sprout cooed from the other side of Harry, "She always was one of my favorite students."

Harry nodded in the affirmative, going on to explain how he and Andromeda shared responsibilities of the boy. "This is Professor Sprout, Teddy. She taught your mommy herbology and she's the Head of Hufflepuff. Are you going to be a Hufflepuff like Mommy or a Gryffindor like Daddy? Hm?" Hermione smiled to the little boy.

Draco took that moment to scoff, "What of Slytherin? Most of his maternal family came from Slytherin."

"And most of his maternal family went crazy." Hermione cooed in a sing-song voice so as not to worry Teddy. Draco grumbled, evidentially he had forgotten that their shared family had quite the notorious past. "And this is your grumpy cousin Draco," Hermione cooed, "Say hi to Grumpy."

"Granger, if the kid only knows me as 'Grumpy' we're going to have a problem."

"Don't worry Malfoy," Hermione laughed, "We alternate between Grumpy and Ferret." Draco's scowl grew.

For the rest of the meal, Teddy babbled, often times so loudly it was difficult to be heard over him. Most of these imaginary words seemed to be directed at Draco. The older boy watched the child out of the corner of his eye, uncertain what to make of the him.

Draco had seen children before, obviously. He had even interacted with one or two, Lucy for example. But this child was different. This child was _loud_ and this child was _wet_. He seemed to drool without stop, Draco was shocked the boy hadn't expired from dehydration yet. This child was also his estranged relative, a close one at that; Draco's maternal grandparents were the child's great grandparents. And, from stories he had heard, Draco's mother had been very close to Teddy's grandmother. Had Voldemort not raised an army, it was not unlikely the child would be familiar with Draco instead of Potter. And that made Draco … well, he didn't have a word to put to this emotion just yet, but it was as if he had a small hole in his stomach that left him feeling _empty_.

"Draco!" Hermione scolded, swatting away Draco's outstretched finger, "He's a baby, you don't _poke_ a baby!"

"I just – he's looks so _squishy._ " Harry snorted and Hermione scoffed. Teddy's babbling grew even louder and the boy waved his toy train, a new favorite of his, at Draco.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Harry asked. Hermione lay on the ground near the fire place and Harry sprawled in an armchair in the eighth-year common room. A chair in the corner had been transfigured into a cot for a sleeping Teddy. She wrinkled her forehead at her friend. "Don't play stupid, Hermione, it doesn't suit you. Why are you so jumpy around Malfoy? Your letters made it sound like you were becoming friendly and last time I was here the two of you got along. What gives?"

Hermione sat up to face Harry. A war waged within her head. Should she tell Harry about Slughorn's party? About how she forced herself on Draco? How he still wouldn't let their friendship return to normal. "Slughorn ambushed us on the last day of classes, basically forced us to attend his party." The words spilled from her mouth, "We went together so we could avoid that debacle and then –" Her courage left her.

"And then?" Harry raised his eyebrows, coaxing her onwards.

"I kissed him." She blurted out. "A few times. A lot, actually." She braced herself for Harry's explosion, but he continued to watch her with guarded eyes, "And then we went back to his room and, well, he stopped it before it got too far. And then I apologized for forcing myself on him and he agreed that we were just friends but things haven't gone back to normal and I-"

Harry cut her off, knowing Hermione well enough to recognize she was careening towards a downward spiral, "Hermione, when he stopped it, what exactly did he say?"

She thought back, "That I looked like I was about to be tortured. That Ron treated me like some blow up doll, but I don't know what blow up doll he meant!" _That he wanted to fuck me all night long._ Harry scratched the back of his neck, repulsed by the prospect of explain Malfoy's reference to Hermione.

"It sounds like he was trying not to force himself on you, not the other way around." The words tasted bitter in Harry's mouth. Not only was he discussing Hermione's sex life, but he was also defending Malfoy. Malfoy. The same boy that had taunted him for being an orphan. The same boy that had taunted her for her muggle heritage.

"That implies Draco gained an incredible amount of emotional intelligence over the past couple years. To go from vapid Death Eater to defender of my virtue in a couple years? That's quite the change." Harry grimaced. She wasn't wrong.

"Winky?" Harry called into an empty space. _Winky?_ The little elf popped into being right where Harry was looking.

"Mis'er Po'er!" Winky beamed. After the Battle of Hogwarts, the little elf had made a remarkable recovery from alcoholism, "How migh' Winky help Mis'er Po'er today?"

"Winky, could you fetch me a pensive?" The elf nodded and disappeared only to reappear a moment later with the requested item clutched to her chest, "Thank you Winky, have a happy Christmas!"

"It's an 'onor to serve Mis'er Po'er, Sir! Have a happy Chris'mas, Mis'er Po'er, Sir!" The elf popped away and Hermione scowled, S.P.E.W. might be defunct, but her feelings about house elves had not changed. Harry should know better.

"Hermione look." Her angry eyes snapped back to him, "In the pensive, just watch it." Hermione gave Harry one last glare before submerging her bushy hair in the liquid.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

 _The world swirled into being around her. It was a stone hallway, most likely Hogwarts. It was eerily quiet, Hermione had only heard a quiet like this at Hogwarts once. During the ceasefire last May when Harry left them to die._

 _Hermione watched as two sneaker-clad feet appeared and then disappeared as their owner ducked behind a corner, frightened by a strangled voice wailing, "Please! Please! Just let me go! We're supposed to be at peace!" A girl. A young one at that. Certainly too young to have stayed behind to fight a war. McGonagall had done her best to keep underaged students out of harm's way, but age did not determine bravery._

 _"Just let me help you!" A darker voice growled out. The girl let out a wordless shriek. Hermione peeked around the corner and down the stairs into the hall below where the voiced were coming from._

 _There was the confrontation. A body — the girl — lay on the floor with a leg stuck out at an awkward angle while another body — the man with the deep dark voice — crouched above her with his wand stuck against her chest. The man had grabbed the girl's good leg and was pinning it to the floor while he pinned one of her arms with his knee, all while warding off her fist with his wand elbow. The evildoer, who Hermione now saw to be a dirty blonde, cast his curse._

 _The curse was unlike any Hermione had ever seen. The girl shuddered and shrieked, but only once. A sharp puncture in the otherwise perfect silence._ If it were the Cruciatus she would still be writhing. _Hermione watched, horror struck as the curse spread over the girl. She watched its off-white glow pulse around her chest and spread to her extremities. She had seen countless monstrosities during the past few hours, but this was the first time Hermione was rendered unable to act. She was upset she couldn't do anything. Enraged that the man would attack an injured, begging girl. And downright pissed that Harry would force her into such a position. But Harry didn't get his jollies from psychologically tormenting those he loved._ There must be a reason. _Hermione thought, turning her full attention back to the scene._

 _The glow of the curse continued to beat around her chest and her injured leg, but faded from the rest of her body. The girl made no noise, in fact, Hermione thought he heard her sigh._ Was she dead? Had this unknown curse killed her? At least her suffering was over. _A minute passed and Hermione was dying to act, but action in a memory had no purpose. Slughorn had proven that._

 _"You…you healed me?" A female voice, so different from that of the distressed girl earlier, spoke quietly from below. Mary Cort, a sixth year Gryffindor. Her and Ginny had been close from what Hermione could remember. "But why?"_

 _"It doesn't matter why." The male voice, familiar now that it wasn't stressed, spoke, "Hurry on now. I'm sure someone will be waiting for you." Mary sprung to her feet and ran off, not sparing her attacker-turned-savior a second glace. He healed her._

 _Although Mary had fled, the man stayed. Kneeling on the ground and resting his weight on his heels, the man's identity was entirely hidden from Hermione, who still stood on the level above, leaning over the balcony. Hermione decided to take a chance and crept quietly – old habits died hard – down the staircase separating her from the man. Hermione reached the lower level, but before she could take another step, the man spun around on his knees and thrust his wand forward in a single motion._

 _Hermione gasped in horror. Draco Malfoy had stunned Harry, now rid of his invisibility cloak and standing mere inches from her._

 _"Potter." Draco spoke without any inflection. The blonde allowed his wand and the spell it had cast to drop. In an entirely un-Malfoy-like motion, he bent down to pick up the invisibility cloak that had fallen between the two and offered it to Harry. The two men stared at the peace offering, now secure in Harry's arms, until Malfoy scoffed, "You really need to get better at sneaking around in those things. Just because people can't see you doesn't mean they can't hear you." Despite his words, his voice held no malice._

 _"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry bit, clearly concurring with Hermione's train of thought._ Seventh year Malfoy had not been a pleasant bloke.

 _"I could ask you the same, but I already know the answer." The boys fell into silence again, "You know it'll make no difference, right? He's just going to slaughter them all." If Draco's bluntness surprised Harry, the dark-haired boy did not let it show._

 _"If I let him kill me he might leave them alone or at least kill fewer people. If I stay and people fight on he will kill every last one of them." Hermione knew Harry was forcing himself to believe his own words. She knew he felt the need to justify his actions to someone, unluckily for Harry, his only option was his childhood nemesis._

 _"Saint Potter, sacrificing himself for the masses. If it weren't a futile sacrifice I'd say it was noble of you. Make no mistake. He. Will. Kill. Them. Even if you give yourself up. He will kill all the people you love. He will kill the Weasleys, Ron and Ginny and George. He will kill Hermione." Malfoy paused, "If you go now you will die and then they will die. You_ **then** _them. Not you_ **or** _them." Hermione marveled at the fact Malfoy knew their given names and that he seemed to_ care _about whether or not they lived or died._

 _"It's all I can do. It's the last thing I can do for them." Harry sighed, draping his cloak around his shoulders._

 _"You're a fool Potter." Malfoy stuck out his hand. "Best of luck."_

 _He looked at the hand with shock and distrust, but Harry shook it. Harry pulled the cloak over his head. Before he disappeared into the darkness he turned back._

 _Although Harry was almost completely encased by the night's darkness, Malfoy's figure stood, alone in the Entrance Hall, visible to anyone who cared to look. His almost-white hair hung around his face, dirty, like the rest of him, with the grime from battle. His left pant leg was torn revealing a long cut trailing from his knee to upper thigh where it continued past where Hermione could see. She had thought she had seen a scar along his thigh the other night. His once-white shirt was stained with blood, a deep red in some places and a faint pink in others, but there was very little white left. Harry looked into the eyes of his childhood tormentor. Much like his own, Malfoy's eyes had aged far past their biological age, holding a dark knowledge that very few people were unfortunate enough to hold. Hermione was smart and wise, but she believed the best in people. The war had stomped that quality out of both men - for that's what war had made these two barely-of-age wizards - leaving them still intelligent but without hope for the goodness of man and wizard kind._

 _"Just, if you see the chance, kill the snake. Or if you can't, get someone to. It just – it has to die." Harry pulled the cloak tighter around his body and disappeared into the night. Off to die. Draco and Hermione watched him go._

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

With a sharp tug around her shoulders, Hermione was pulled, gasping from the memories. She had always hated pensives, they always made her feel as if she had been submerged in water too long. "If it was Draco you told about the snake, how did Neville end up killing it?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, but Malfoy must have passed the request along at some point. Neville wouldn't have just _decided_ to kill the snake." He sent a glance over to Teddy, still sleeping soundly, "Just, think that over. He clearly understood right and wrong well enough to play a role in passing the message along. Maybe his transformation from, what did you call it? Vapid Death Eater? Well maybe it started before the war ended." The words were bitter in his mouth. But it _had_ been Malfoy that took care of Hermione in the aftermath of the incident. And according to Ginny, the two had become inseparable. Harry owed it to Hermione to support her chance at happiness. Until Malfoy ruined it. Then Harry would bring a wrath previously unknown down upon Draco.

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the words sink into the silence, "Um, Hermione, I haven't had much time since I came back for Christmas, would you mind if I went down to the Pitch for a while?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded all the same. Leave it to Harry to drop a bomb and then focus on Quidditch.

Harry made quick work of changing and fleeing the castle. It had been over a week since he had been on a broom, and over a year since he had been on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. He would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to seeing his old haunt once again. Passing through the Gryffindor changing room, Harry was thrilled the wards still recognized him.

The pitch was just how he remembered it. Large, but welcoming. Not a single blade of grass out of place. Six perfectly polished goal posts rising from the scoring area. And a single Slytherin racing up and down the pitch, quaffle at his side.

Harry Potter watched Draco Malfoy hurtle through the sky and propel the quaffle through the goal post with frightening accuracy. The blonde swooped to catch the ball on its descent, finally noticing he was not alone. Tucking the quaffle back under his arm, Malfoy slowly lowered himself to the ground, stepping off his broom fifty feet from Harry.

"Potter." Draco nodded, "Had enough of your professional pitches? Come back to our lowly facilities."

"Can it, Malfoy." Harry was already beginning to regret defending the man, "Just wanted to get some practice in while Teddy was asleep." Draco's face softened at the mention of the baby, "You know, you're welcome to spend time with him once you graduate. Andromeda always spoke – wistfully – of your mother. Insisted her baby sister wasn't nearly as bad as everyone thought she was. That her nephew couldn't be as much like his father as people claimed, not with a mother like his."

Whatever softness that had been in Draco's face evaporated, "Don't talk about things you don't understand, Potter."

"Draco, I think I understand quite a bit. Your parents are gone, and all you have left is an aunt worlds apart." Harry chuckled, but the humor was lost on Draco, "You've heard I was raised by muggles, yes? My mother's sister. _Petunia_. Truly awful woman, only rivaled by her husband, really. But I embraced them, because they _were all I had._ " Harry paused for emphasis, "Don't let pride get in the way of a family. A shot at happiness."

"Well, Potter, if your Quidditch career doesn't pan out, you have a future in psychiatry." Malfoy raked his fingers through his hair and sighed, "Any chance you'd want to give me one last chance to prove I'm good enough to oppose the Great Harry Potter? Been a while since I chased a snitch."

Harry released the snitch, hopped on his broom, and they were off.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Best four out of seven?" Draco ventured.

"Just give it up, Malfoy." Harry laughed. The blonde boy had almost beaten him to the last two snitches, but Harry had pulled ahead at the very last moment, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding something. A certain bushy-haired Head Girl, perhaps?"

"Regina Howle?" Draco wrinkled his brow, a playful glint in his eyes, "From our third year? Haven't thought of her in years, actually."

"Not who I meant and you know it." Harry grumbled, "Hermione told me about the other night."

Normally, Draco would have brushed the boy's questions off and thrown in a _mind your business_ for good measure. Up in the air, in the middle of the pitch, years were shed off their lives. In the air, they were no longer war survivors. In the air, there was no blood supremacy, no house rivalry. In the air, in muggle athletic wear, they were simply two teenaged boys, talking about a teenage girl that had made it a habit of being very vexing.

"About how she forced herself on me?" Draco drawled.

"Sure." Harry offered a cross expression, "If that's what you think happened, let's go with that. What does she have to do to apologize then? If that's what happened, if she forced herself on you?"

Draco sized the other boy up. There was no reason for either boy to trust the other. They had hated each other all through school. But they had never had anything in common. Now they did. Now they had Hermione. Draco knew if Hermione was to stay in his life, he would have to accept Potter as well. And Red. And probably the whole Weasel gang. He found some solace in the thought that he could still be hostile to _the_ Weasel.

"She didn't." Draco fiddled with the handle of his broom, suddenly very aware that a single grain of wood seemed to be running a few degrees crooked. "Weasley really did a number on her, didn't he?"

"He didn't mean to." Harry defended his friend, "He just – fame went to his head. Not that that's an excuse, but it's true. He always had a thing for Hermione, and she always had a thing for him. They finally got the timing right and no one wanted to admit they weren't right for each other."

"It's more than that, though." Draco thought back to the ghost of the war heroine that had crawled onto his bed, "He destroyed her _confidence_."

Draco had shouted many insults at Hermione over the years, too many to count really. Things about her appearance, about her intelligence, her worth, her parentage, anything, he insulted her for it. Nothing he threw at her had ever created that hollow look he had seen in her eyes. With each derogatory phrase he threw at her, a fire lit inside her and she parried with him, word for word. Six years, his main source of entertainment had been enraging her and she had never broken. It had taken Ronald Weasley only four months with Hermione on his arm to reduce her to a shell of her former self. Had Draco followed his father's footsteps, he would have been in awe, envious of the Weasel's ability.

"Ron always had this vision for himself. As early as second year he had this desire to surpass all his brothers. Be Head Boy like Bill, Quidditch Captain like Charlie, top of his class like Percy, you see where this is going? Between you, me, Hermione and Ginny, we've blocked him from all those things." Harry sighed, wistfully remembering such innocent times. "Now all that's left is for him to beat them professionally, which with George's success is unlikely, or romantically, which means surpassing Fleur. Have you seen Fleur lately?"

Draco thought back to the Halloween Ball. She had been there, she must have been. All the Weasleys were there. The oldest was Bill, the one with the scar, he had danced with Hermione. _Fleur. Which one was Fleur._ He remembered her as the Triwizard Championship, tall and willowy, with silvery, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He conjured an image to his mind of Bill Weasley, the one with the terrible scars, walking into the room. He remembered catching sight of a beautiful blonde woman before he saw a shimmer of silver from behind the doors and was consequently distracted. Ultimately, Draco shook his head, _no, he didn't have a good idea of how Fleur looked now._

"She's almost five months pregnant," Harry laughed, "Still glowing, I swear, she hasn't gained a pound. That's what Ron wants, the beautiful wife to bear his children, that's not Hermione."

"You don't think Hermione's –" Draco couldn't bring himself to finish the question. Putting the words Hermione and beautiful in a verbal sentence especially directed to Harry seemed wrong.

"I don't think that's all she is. Nor do I think it's her priority. But it's Ron's. He wants the wife with a size zero waist but DD breasts. It's not something Hermione would alter herself to fulfill. Ron couldn't handle that."

 _Hermione with those dimensions would be a freak show_. Draco horrified himself with the image. Hermione was tiny, barely more than five feet tall, five feet three inches would be pushing it. To give her proportions like Potter described would be an atrocity. Draco liked how Hermione was proportioned. Her bum just bigger than his hands, her breasts slightly smaller. Her stomach was not hardened with muscles, but it was flat from her year on the run. Her hips swelled from her waist, giving her a slight hourglass. Her legs were long, despite her small stature. All of this was only noticeable when she shed those unflattering robes.

Draco nodded, "Did you know about Lavender?"

"Ginny guessed." Harry massaged the back of his neck, "I told her Ron wouldn't do that. Even with his inflated ego, he wouldn't hurt Hermione that way. I had insisted. Emphatically. Ginny kept bringing it up, so I asked if she had proof – I needed proof if I was going to ruin my best friends' relationship – she said she only had a feeling." The boys rested in silence until Harry chuckled darkly, "Ginny is collaborating with George on a new line of products." Draco looked at the boy as if he had lost his mind. _Was now the time to bring up gags?_ "They will be safe to use on pregnant women. Won't impact the baby at all."

"Remind me never to cross your fiancé." Draco shuddered,

"Cross her once and you'll never need reminding again."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

It had been a long time since Hermione had been alone. Between classes with Draco, studying with the Slytherins, helping Ginny plan her wedding, and living next door to Lucy, she was never alone. The silence was deafening. She used to crave quiet, it meant a respite from Ron and Harry's childish yammering, but now it _dis_ quieted her. She had grown so used to the constant companionship, companionship that did not revolve around quidditch and defeating a dark lord, that was thrilled when Teddy awoke from his nap with a shriek.

Hermione scooped the boy into her arms, ruffling his hair – he had chosen a blonde today. Hermione decided a brisk walk about the castle would do them both some good. The air in the common space had grown stagnant, even if only by comparison to the constant whirring of Hermione's head, trying to work out Draco's involvement in killing Nagini. Setting the boy on her hip, Hermione set off.

With only a dozen professors and fifteen students remaining behind for the holidays, Hogwarts was empty and Hermione did not see a single soul, aside from Teddy, of course. As she strolled through the Entrance Hall, Hermione set Teddy onto his own two feet. Holding the little boy's hands in her own, she coaxed him through tentative, supported steps, cooing all the while. As they passed the grand staircase they had just come down, Hermione heard another voice, a quiet whimpering.

Hermione had never been as reckless as Ron or as brave as Harry, so she never went hurtling head first into situations that best be avoided, but Hermione was curious. It was this curiosity that forced Hermione to pull open the door, concealed in the side of the staircase. She had never seen this door before, not that she had ever inspected the stairs for hidden doors, but one would think after six years in the castle she would have. It was small and not unlike how Harry described the cupboard that had been his room for his first decade of life. With the door out of the way, the whimpering grew in volume to silenced sobs.

"Lucy?" Hermione pulled herself and Teddy into the room. Teddy was fascinated by the funny ceiling created by the stairs above. Hermione left him to his own devices and sat beside the small girl. "Why are you crying?"

"It-It's nothing, Hermione. I'm just – I'm just being foolish is all." The girl wiped her eyes and held in a sob. She succeeded for a moment, before the cry ripped through her lips along with a gasp for air.

"If it's nothing why are you crying?" Hermione pulled the smaller girl to her side.

"I know he was a bad guy. I _know_ that. I _know_ he was evil and I _know_ he killed people. But he was still my dad." She cried, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

Hermione bit her lip. She knew Death Eaters had family. There were spouses and children and oh so many other relations Hermione was sure. But her only experience with a Death Eater family was the Malfoys. Lucius was vicious, only second to his sister-in-law, who was a complete psycho. Narcissa quiet, but, Hermione was certain, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. And Draco, he was no angel. There were no innocents in the Malfoy family, but Lucy, having been only ten when Voldemort had fallen, was by definition an innocent. Hermione never had to confront the idea of innocents being _related_ to a Death Eater, particularly one as central as Dolohov. It was far easier to think of anyone associated with Voldemort, even if not to the first degree, was guilty. _But then how to explain her reactions to Malfoy?_

She shook her head to stop herself from heading down the _Malfoy path_. It had been plaguing her since their kiss: what category does Malfoy fit, good or evil? "Why don't you tell me about him?"

"On Christmas Eve, he would _always_ , _always,_ tuck me in. Even last year when he was so busy doing bad things he was there. _Always._ And he made sure to be there when I opened my presents. He even missed a summons for it last year. He taught me how to fly a broom. He said I was small and could never win a fight, but I could wreak havoc from the sky." She chucked ruefully, "I guess he was right judging by the quidditch standings."

She was right. Thanks to her early catch, the Slytherins were far ahead of the other teams. Only two games into the season and it would be very difficult for another team to catch up. A smile quirked at Hermione's lips, Draco did a good job with his team. She was still shocked he had given up his prized position, even if he didn't fit the general physicality needed in his older age.

"Then that's what you need to remember about him. The good things. Forget the bad, forget the Death Eater Dolohov and only remember your dad."

She sniffled a few more times, but the sobs slowly subsided, "Thanks, Hermione."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"I'm telling you, Potter, I would have beat you if you gave me one more chance." Draco whined as he threw open the main doors to the castle.

Harry had been pleasantly surprised by Malfoy's recent behavior. Sarcastic, yes, but without the bite that had plagued their relationship up until that point. Maybe Hermione was having a positive influence on him. _Thank Merlin._ Harry had worried it would be Malfoy warping Hermione. His best friend was strong and he did not doubt her morality, but he also never thought Malfoy was capable of being a bonified Death Eater.

"That's what you said the last two times." Harry laughed at the scowl spreading across the other boy's face, but the expression froze halfway into its place.

Harry turned his head to follow Malfoy's gaze. _Hermione_. She was emerging from a small door in the side of the staircase. Harry shivered, knowing there was a cupboard under the stairs at Hogwarts troubled him. Hermione helped a little girl, the Slytherin seeker, the Dolohov girl, out after her and bent down into the room, returning to a standing position with a child with a shock of white-blonde hair in her arms.

Now, Harry knew the baby to be Teddy, who else could it be? And Harry knew Malfoy knew it was Teddy. But there was no denying that Teddy, from a distance with his blonde hair, bore an uncanny resemblance to Malfoy. The two men approached the trio and Harry couldn't help noticing Malfoy's eyes remained trained on the baby. The resemblance held up as they walked closer. _How had I not seen it before?_ Harry mentally thumped himself on the forehead. His godson did look quite a bit like his schoolyard nemesis. It was odd though, Harry had always thought Malfoy to be the spitting image of his father. _Maybe,_ Harry thought, _because I didn't see his mother until much later._

"Lulu?" Malfoy's voice startled Harry out of his aside, "What's wrong, why are your eyes red?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Hermione squeezed Lucy's hand, "But, it is getting late and if these munchkins aren't tucked into bed Santa might not come!"

"Draco! Santa!" The girl, _Lulu_ , wailed.

"Come one, Lulu. I'll race you!" And with that Malfoy was off, bounding up the grand staircase three steps at a time. Lulu ran after him, shouting about how it wasn't fair, that he had had a head start.

Hermione sighed, casting a shockingly maternal look up at the two Slytherins before starting up the staircase herself with Teddy, sucking his thumb, clutched to her chest. Harry stood back to observe the picture. Malfoy, breathing a bit heavier than usual, slumped at the top of the stairs, smirking down as Lulu and her dark, riotous curls bounded up the stairs after him. Hermione, carrying the small, blonde boy, followed them slowly, yelling for them to "Be _Careful!_ Santa doesn't visit hospital wings!" They looked like a young family. And it didn't repulse Harry.

"Oi! Potter!" Malfoy called, just before he bounded off for the next flight of stairs. His hesitation gave Lulu the lead. "You plan on joining us or not?"


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N.** Hi everyone! Sorry it took so long. My computer deleted everything I had pre-written, but I really wanted to get this posted for today, and I think you'll see why.

Hermione was awoken with an _umphf_. Her bed shook and her body jostled. Her wartime reflexes kicked in and her wand was drawn before she even opened her eyes. Once she did, she came face to face with Lucy who was sitting gently on the older girl's chest, looking cross-eyed at the wand just touching her nose. Lucy's eyes uncrossed, she looked Hermione in the eye for just a moment before shrieking "Happy Christmas, Hermione!"

"Lu, please, take it down maybe five decibels." A groggy voice begged from the doorway. Hermione let her eyes wander to Draco Malfoy clad only in his boxers, wiping sleep from the corner of his eye. Hermione was momentarily distracted by the memory of how _firm_ his naked chest was. "There's no need to wake the whole castle." Draco's yawn pulled his eyes up from Lucy to Hermione. His smirk and her blush made it abundantly clear that they both knew what she had been looking at.

"Luc, let's go open presents and leave the grouches to themselves. If they want to spend more time in bed instead of opening presents that's their loss." Harry had appeared just behind Draco in the doorway. Lucy flew from Hermione's bed and out the door, taking Harry with her.

Hermione rolled over in her bed, snuggling up against the wall. She had slept like this since she was a small child. It had made the adjustment to Hogwarts all the harder, she kept falling out of her four poster bed in search for the wall. For the second time that morning, she felt her bed dip and she was jostled. With a slight turn of her head, she was able to see Draco lying on his back in the bed behind her with his arm thrown over his eyes. This was the first time she had been alone since the night of Slughorn's party. Her mouth went dry and she felt a muscle in her thigh twitch.

"It's so _sunny_ in here." He grumbled, shifting a bit and pushing her further into the wall when his shoulder bumped against her back. The bed wasn't meant for two people.

"Then maybe you should go to your own room." Hermione quipped, pushing back against him.

"And brave Lucy for a second time this morning? Not a chance, Granger. It's a miracle I escaped the first time. 'Fraid I might actually _owe_ Potter one for distracting her."

She pushed back again, trying to carve out a space for herself – had he always been this large? "Why aren't you wearing any _clothes!_ " She grumbled, giving him one final push.

Somehow, someway, he managed to flip to the other side of her so that he was against the wall. To prevent her from falling off the bed as a result of her pushing inertia, he wrapped both his arms around her, holding her snuggly against his chest, "I didn't have time to grab one before Lulu dragged me from my bed. _Literally_. Who knew someone so small could be so strong?" As if to further prove his point, Hermione swatted at his chest as she tried to pull away.

"Would you just let me go?" Hermione was ready to brave Christmas morning with two children under twelve,

"You didn't seem to mind a couple nights ago." He whispered the last part into her ear and pulled her front flush against his. She didn't want to be calmed by his steady heartbeat. She didn't want her check to naturally rest against his shoulder. She didn't want his scent to lull her into sleep.

But in the past few months, Hermione had rarely gotten what she wanted.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Um… Harry?" He turned his attention from the impatient toddler waiting for his trainset to be built, to the little girl who was eyeing him with caution, "What are we going to do with Draco and Hermione's presents? I _really_ need the space for my beach." She waved her two swimsuit clad dolls.

"Well Luc, I guess it's time to wake them up then." The girl beamed, turning to her third doll to prepare him for the 'beach'. "Come on Teddy, let's go wake Hermione and the Ferret."

Harry scooped the little boy off the ground. The boy's shrieks quieted for a moment before he seemed to deduce where they were heading. He started babbling _Dradradradradradra._ A quick couple steps and the pair were at Hermione's door. Slowly, Harry pushed the door open and felt his breath catch in his throat. _Hearing_ about Hermione's relationship with Malfoy was entirely different from _witnessing_ it.

Malfoy lay on his back with the plush white blanket strewn across his midsection. His arm was slung around Hermione's shoulders, holding her chest flush against his side. Hermione did not seem to mind though, as her face was buried in the crook of his neck and her arm was flung over Malfoy's chest. Harry would hazard a guess that the lump under the blanket was Hermione's leg thrown over one of Malfoy's. To Harry's immense surprise, he wasn't repulsed at the scene.

Harry still wasn't sure how, but Malfoy had played a role in killing Nagini. He had delayed their detection at Malfoy Manor. He had supported Hermione when no one else could have. He was a right git, but _something_ was changing in him. And if anyone could coax out the good in a person it was –

 _"_ _Dradradradradra!"_ Teddy pulled Harry from his thoughts.

"Alright, alright. Go get Grumpy." Harry settled the baby at the foot of the bed.

With surprising agility, Teddy clambered his way up the bed to plop himself squarely on top of Malfoy's chest.

"Well hello there." A gruff voice softly spoke. Malfoy's hand, the one that wasn't resting on Hermione's hip, came up to rest on Teddy's back, holding the boy firmly in place. "Are you having a happy Christmas?" _Dradradradradra_. Teddy's hands smacked at Malfoy's chest as the little boy shouted.

Hermione jolted awake. Harry saw Malfoy's arm tighten around Hermione's waist and begin to rub small circles into her skin. Harry watched his best friend prop herself up on an elbow to look down at the two boys in her bed with a fond smile playing at her lips. "I'll never get a moments rest between you two."

"Hermione!" Harry was pushed into the door frame by Lucy as she rushed past and propelled herself onto the bed. Malfoy was quick enough to shift Teddy before he was knocked from his perch by the incoming assailant.

"Lucy you must be more careful around Teddy. He's little and could be harmed."

"Sorry Hermione." Lucy didn't look or sound the least bit sorry, "You should see all the presents I got! There were books and dolls and some more books and a new set of quills and…"

"Lucy." Harry cleared his throat. He had begun to feel like an outsider watching the foursome. Teddy now rested between Hermione and Malfoy, the little boy gripping at Hermione's hair and pulling it this way and that across her face. Lucy sat on top of Draco where Teddy had once been. At her name, she turned around to look over her shoulder at Harry. "Want to ask Hermione and Ma-Draco why we came to wake them up?"

"Oh! Oh ya! You need to come open your presents so I can make my beach for my dolls. Did I tell you I got some dolls for Christmas and some books and…"

"Come on, Lulu, let's go open some presents." Malfoy looped his arm around the small girls waist and lifted her onto his hip as he stood.

"Draco, don't step on my slippers!" Hermione scolded as she followed Draco from her bed, carrying Teddy with her.

Draco passed harry first, "Happy Christmas, Potter." Draco gave the other boy a nod. Hermione passed and gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hermione! Open this one first!" Lucy screeched.

Harry rubbed his temples. He didn't remember Christmas being this loud.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Now, Teddy, you must remember, when you play with your train the conductor must go inside the train's _cab_ not in the _coal pit_. That would be foolish." Lucy finished buttoning the last of the buttons on Teddy's coat. Harry stood behind the youngest child with his hand rested on top of the boy's hat covered head. Teddy's three other jackets were stuffed into Harry's overnight bag, Hermione having convinced him Teddy would not suffer hypothermia during their short, magical trip. Lucy gave the little boy a hug, shot Harry a dazzling smile, and then skipped off into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry grabbed Hermione for one last hug. Enveloping her in his warmth and soothing nerves she hadn't known were agitated. He whispered into her ear, just low enough so Draco, who stood at her side couldn't hear, "Are you sure you don't want to come to Christmas dinner? There's a good chance that he won't even be there. They moved out a little while back. He's still upset with Mrs. Weasley and, well, you know how he is."

Hermione pulled away, keeping her arms wrapped around him, but now able to look him in the eyes, "I cannot go to his house on _Christmas_ of all days. Maybe next year, but right now – I just don't think it's best. Especially if he's already upset with Mrs. Weasley. Pass along my love and my regrets that I can't be there."

Harry nodded and stepped out of her embrace, leaving her much colder than she remembered being. Hermione turned to wordlessly implore Draco to give a civil goodbye, but he was gone. As was Teddy. Harry realized the absences just a second later and began to panic. Hermione did not miss the "Andromeda's going to kill me" that slid from his lips.

"Calm down, we're over here." Draco's voice called from across the hall. Hermione and Harry neared. Teddy was slowly, but confidently scooting over to a narrow stairwell off the Entrance Hall. "Kid wandered away while you were having your love fest. Thought it wouldn't be all that good for my rehabilitated reputation if he fell down stairs and I did nothing."

Harry scooped up the wandering child before he could reach he destination: the top step. Teddy let out an indignant shriek.

"Guess we'll just have to show you the dungeons next time, kid." Draco smirked at the still-grumbling child, "He needs to get to know his future house sooner or later." The smirk grew wider when Harry blanched.

"Well, um, have a good Christmas, Malfoy."

"You too, Potter." They boys nodded at each other and Teddy stopped shrieking while Draco ruffled his hair. Hermione gave Harry one last hug before she was left alone in the Entrance Hall with Draco.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Only fifteen students and seven professors remained in the castle over the Christmas holiday. With such a small group of residents, the castle had replaced the six large tables with two much smaller ones. Hermione sat herself beside Professor McGonagall. This had always been Hermione's favorite part of holidays at Hogwarts: sitting beside her favorite professors for all her meals. Draco watched Hermione settle into her seat before moving down the table to sit between Lucy and Sarah.

Hermione and the Headmistress were quickly engrossed in a debate over the newest article in Transfiguration Times. Lucy and Sarah chatted amicably about the latest gossip in the Slytherin dorms. This left Draco alone with his thoughts.

Last night, after he had finished helping Potter with his Santa-ploy, Draco had returned to his room and accidentally knocked a pile of books from his desk. After a quite string of curse words, he crouched to pick them up, but was halted when he came across the single-paragraph letter written on ministry-blue paper.

In the hustle of class and Quidditch it was easy for Draco to forget about the clock ticking down his doom. Although the loss of half his inheritance would not leave him destitute – he hadn't been lying when he told Hermione his personal account made him the fifth wealthiest man in England – it would certainly be a blow to his pride. The Malfoy fortune had been built by centuries upon centuries of effort. He would not be the one to lose half of it when the clock struck midnight and he turned nineteen. For perhaps the fifth time since receiving the first letter, Draco ran down the list of women he knew to be eligible. Once he removed the gold diggers and those who would never give him a chance, he was left with exactly two options: Astoria Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, the first of which was intolerably obsessed and the other actually _was_ living in muggle New York City, pursuing a career at a fashion magazine. He was completely and utterly screwed.

A small hand rested gently on his shoulder pulling himself from his self-inflicted pity party. He turned his head slightly to see Hermione watching Lucy unwrap a hideously wrapped parcel. The little girl's eyes twinkled when a light blue sweater tumbled onto her lap. She flicked it out and giggled with glee at the sight of a silver snitch knitted onto the chest. "Oh, Hermione, I love it! I'll have to write Mrs. Weasley a thank you note, it was so kind of her…" The girl sprung from her seat and wrapped her arms around the other girl's waist. Draco noticed then that Hermione was already wearing a similar sweater, a dark purple-maroon number with a white lion, and that she had another one of those atrocious brown bundles tucked under her arm, pinned at her side by Lucy's embrace. Hermione managed to extract her arm from the death grip, and turn her gaze to meet Draco's, "Mrs. Weasley sent one for you as well." With one arm wrapped around Lucy's shoulder, she handed the present to Draco, who eyed it with a wary expression.

The wrapping was even worse up close. With extreme caution, Draco peeled back the first layer. Lucy ran off to find stationary and Hermione took her place on the bench beside Draco. "It's not going to attack you." She caught the glare he sent her from the corner of his eye and chuckled. His features softened as he ripped off the final layer. Holding the sweater up, it was clearly homemade. Uneven sleeves, a slanted hem, a missed stitch here or there.

"You're smiling." He finally turned to look at Hermione.

"Bugger off." He grumbled, still fingering the sweater.

"Well," Hermione smirked, lifting herself from the bench, "I promised Lucy we would walk down to Hogsmeade. McGonagall already approved. Heads' privilege. We've leaving at four if you want to join." And with that she was gone.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Mrs. Weasley bustled around her kitchen. She decided at the last minute to set an additional three plates, just in case.

"Mum, we're only eleven." Ginny whispered, following her mother and removing those three new additions.

"Oh hush, Ginny." Molly swatted her daughter's hands, restoring the places, "It's incase Hermione decides to come, after all. I asked Harry to make one last plea."

"That explains one place." Her youngest son grumbled from his place at the end of the table, "Why you want her here after she insulted your daughter-in-law is beyond me."

Ginny snorted when she, and only she, heard her mother's grumbled, "She's not my daughter-in-law yet." Molly plastered a smile on her face and looked toward Ron, "In case that lovely Lucy girl Harry has been talking about comes with her."

"And the other plate…?"

"Oh Ronald, stop being so dense." Ginny flung her hands in the air before her mother could respond. Molly sensed trouble brewing between her two youngest. Harry seemed to sense the forming storm from the other room as he appeared in the doorway, "You know it's for Draco, you know, the guy who didn't crush her in front of the entire wizarding world."

On cue, Ron's ear reddened and his breaths began coming in quick, deep gasps. He sputtered and his hands flailed, "I – ah – I did NOT do that! She rejected me and insulted Lav lav and –"

"And you then yelled at her and insulted her in front of Wizarding England!" Ginny jabbed an accusatory finger at Ron.

"So why does _he_ have to come? He's a git." Ron couldn't seem to settle between infuriated and grumbling.

"Ronald, there has been enough hat in the past few years. If Draco is willing to make an effort and is – how did you put it, Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened, surprised by his future mother-in-law's question. He couldn't tell Ron that Malfoy followed Hermione around like a lost puppy or that the presence of the younger children _softened_ him so instead he settled for "He's not acting like the git we've come to know and detest."

Ron spun in his chair, "So you're on his side, too?"

"There are no sides, Ron." Harry rolled his eyes at his oldest friend, "We fought a war so there would be no sides. Remember?"

"Of course I remember! I lost my childhood! I lost my brother! Do you remember Fred? Or George with two years! No! You're too busy being the _Chosen One_ and FUCKING my sister!"

Thankfully, Harry's seeker reflexes allowed him to catch Ginny around her waist and pluck her wand from her hand before she reached her brother's throat.

"Ronald. You know I don't like that talk."

"No! You don't! You'd rather forget he ever existed than accept he was killed. Maybe by this _Draco_ you're so eager to invite." Without waiting for a response, he stormed into the other room. A moment later, he returned, pulling Lavender along with him, and flooed away.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The sky was a dark grey, just dark enough that the lights were clearly visable. Hogsmeade was quiet with everyone else nestled into their homes celebrating Christmas with their families. Lucy pulled Hermione down the path, giggling happily about the lights. In an effort to revive moral after the war, Hogsmeade had begun a holiday decorating contest among its residents. When they left the castle at four o'clock, the sun had already begun to set. By the time they were walking down the main street of the village, the lights began to twinkle from the roofs and the trees. It was these lights that drew Hermione and Lucy from the warmth of the castle on Christmas day.

Hermione allowed Lucy to lead her up and down the street. The little girl was _so_ happy. Hermione couldn't remember a time she was _that_ happy. Perhaps some time before the latter half of her first year at Hogwarts; before Voldemort began to claw his way to power. That's not to say Hermione was unhappy. Through a summer of hard work restoring the castle, twice weekly therapy visits, and focusing on the benefits of winning the war rather than on the costs of fighting it, Hermione had mended her shattered psyche. At least that's what she said. Her therapist said she was merely suppressing her grief. But Hermione had done _extensive_ research on post-traumatic stress disorder and the five stages of grief. And clearly _she_ knew her thoughts better than some third party.

They had waited in the Entrance Hall for ten minutes after their schedule departure time, hoping that Draco would show up. Hermione hadn't expected much. Their time with Harry had been abnormal in that Hermione had interacted with Draco. Besides the past twenty-four hours or so, she had seen Draco only a handful of times in the week between Slughorn's party and Christmas Eve. Most of those times had been at meals.

Draco seemed to have a strange fascination with his younger cousin. And Teddy seemed to reciprocate the affection, albeit more openly. Quickly after first meeting over dinner, Teddy had morphed his hair from a vivid pink to a soft white-blond. The little boy lit up around his older cousin and Draco tolerated him. Hermione might go so far as to say Draco _enjoyed_ Teddy's presence. Hermione and Draco had been nearly inseparable for the past two months, so she could say with some certainty he enjoyed very few people.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A sharp voice, coupled with an equally sharp jab from Lucy's nails into Hermione hand, pulled Hermione from her thoughts. She blinked once to unglazed her eyes. There he was. Ron. With Lavender just behind him.

Hermione sucked in a shaky breath, "I believe _I_ should be the one asking _you_ that."

"We _live_ here, _stupid_." Lavender peered around Ron's shoulder.

She pulled her hand from Lucy's grasp, crossing her arms over her chest, "Funny, so do we. Big castle on the hillside. See? Right there?"

"Merlin!" Ron threw his arms in air, "You even _sound_ like him! Look, you're fucking smirking!" He advanced on her, "So that's all you are now? One of Malfoy's little whores? You let Zabini and Nott get in on the action too?"

"Ronald. There's a child present." She wrapped an arm around Lucy's head, covering one ear with her hand and pressing the other to her hip.

This turned his assault – _Remember when we used to_ laugh _at the whores leaving the dungeons at three in the morning?_ – from Hermione to Lucy, "That's right, not only are you Malfoy's whore, you play mummy to Death Eater spawn." Lucy's lip trembled.

"Don't call her that."

"As bad as she is. As bad as he is. You're worse. They were _raised_ to be evil. You – you _choose_ to join their side. You _choose_ to stay with him. He cost me my brother. Hell, he's the reason I'm not with the rest of my family today."

"Draco was cleared of all wrong doing when he stood trial last June. Lucy was too young to know anything was _happening_. And you – you, I'm sure, brought your estrangement with your family on yourself in some way." Hermione felt her face turn into a glower she had seen on Draco's face too many times, "We will be leaving now, have a Happy Christmas, Ronald, Lavender."

Hermione turned and began leading Lucy back towards the castle, trying her best to suppress the tears brimming her eyes. The war had made her hard. The war had made her fast. But she was too busy consoling Lucy to react to Ron's shouted curse.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco groaned as he rolled over in his bed. _A quick afternoon nap._ Was that so much to ask? Apparently. He sat up, giving up on quieting his thoughts. They followed a similar path as this mind had earlier that morning. He needed a bride and he needed her in the next five months. McGonagall had allowed him some time to floo-call his mother in her office. That was the closest thing to face to face contact Draco and his mother had managed since their trials in June.

 _"_ _Happy Christmas, Mother." Draco allowed a small smile to play around his lips._

 _"_ _Happy Christmas, Draco, dear." War had aged his mother. Her blonde hair had streaks of grey running through it. Her blue eyes, once as twinkling and clear as Lucy's, were now dull, although there was some light when she fell to her knee in front of her only son's burning head, "Have you been having a good Holiday?"_

 _"_ _I suppose." He drawled, "Potter brought Andromeda's grandson by last night."_

 _A frown creased his mother's delicate features, "I did hear Nymphadora left behind a child. I didn't realize it was a boy." She paused, "What's his name?"_

 _"_ _Edward. Lupin. They call him Teddy."_

 _"_ _He lives with Andromeda?"_

 _"_ _I think. Spends some time with Potter, though, he's his godfather and – what?" Draco had noticed his mother's frown had morphed into a coy smile._

 _"_ _No longer 'Saint Potter' or some other variation I see?" Her son rolled his eyes and offered a grunt, "This wouldn't have anything to do with his best friend living in your quarters, would it, Draco?"_

 _"_ _She doesn't live in my quarters, Mother. She happens to have her own room. She doesn't share my quarters any more than Blaise or Theo do."_

 _"_ _But you aren't denying she's had an impact on you?"_

 _"_ _If it allows you to sleep at night, Mother."_

 _Her smile morphed into a smirk, "How indulging of you. Now, pray tell me, Draco, the dragon your father gave you for your fifteenth birthday, how is it of late?"_

 _"_ _What do you know?" His mother had a way of finding things out._

 _"_ _Oh nothing." His mother sat back, "You forget, that dragon is just as linked to me as it is to your father." She flicked her wrist a couple times, to drive her point home, "Well,_ if _the dragon has reacted, maybe it is time…"_

That conversation had left him drained. He had trekked back to his dormitory and collapsed onto his bed, glaring at the snoozing dragon on the desk. He rolled over. And over. And over. This is what brought him to the present, sitting up at the edge of his bed, watching the dragon strut back and forth across his desk. Draco stood, snapped the dragon in half and stormed from his room.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The walk down to Hogsmeade was cold. Colder than he had expected. Draco pulled his coat around him tighter, wishing he had thought to bring a scarf. Reaching the village, Draco looked left, right, and left again. There were no signs of life anywhere, save for two sets of footprints trailing into the distance. Draco figured the prints were as good of a hint as any so he set off to follow them.

The village was not that large. A single stretch of stores with small apartments perched above them. It was smaller than the Manor grounds and yet Draco had never had a problem finding his mother in the gardens. The corners of his lips pulled down into a scowl as he passed the same frilly teashop for the for the third time without a single sighting of bushy brown hair or of sparkling blue eyes. And he was cold. Very cold. The Three Broomsticks was beginning to look more and more inviting each time he passed it. By the ninth pass, he could resist it no longer.

A small bell jingled overhead as Draco pushed the heavy door inwards. Stomping on the mat in a dignified manner, Draco flicked his wand to banish the snow from his form. He heard it then. Not the bell or the clinking of classes, but a hiccup. He hadn't heard that hiccup in nearly two months. Theo, Blaise and he had stopped those hiccups. They had turned her sobs to hiccups to half-hearted smiles to rueful chuckles to tinkling laughs. He saw red as he turned to face the source. He saw her bushy hair first. He noticed Lucy sitting beside her, truly he did. But when her head lifted and Draco saw the dried tears staining her cheeks, nothing else mattered.

With four quick strides, Draco stood in front of her, just across the table, "What happened." It wasn't a question it was a demand. Cold and mechanical. He hadn't heard _this_ voice of his leave his body in eight months. "Hermione. What happened." It was Christmas. Even Voldemort had been opposed to blood-letting on Christmas; he had given them the day off last year. Well, extenuating circumstances.

"Malfoy. Happy Christmas." He turned to face the voice. Hermione sat in the middle, hunched slightly into herself, but her eyes held Draco's. Lucy was on her right, huddled into Hermione's side. Draco noticed Hermione was rubbing slow circles in the girl's shoulder. On Hermione's left was the source of the voice: a boy, maybe three years younger than Draco, wrapped in a Slytherin scarf. Draco turned his head towards him, but kept his eyes on Hermione, noticing when the girl rubbed furiously at her eyes and cheeks. "Nicholas Selwyn." He held out his hand to shake Draco's hand. Draco finally raked his eyes over to the boy. It was indeed Nicholas Selwyn. Fourth Year Slytherin.

"What. Happened." Draco all but growled. Nicholas shriveled. "Don't make me ask again." The younger boy glanced at the two girls. Gulping, Nicholas stood and jerked his head to indicate the bar. Draco followed him, not letting his gaze leave his two girls. "What happened."

"First, I would just like to say, it's an honor to have been able to help Ms. Granger and Ms. Dolohov. Slytherins have to stick together and all." Malfoy growled, "Sorry, sorry – right. My father called a friend of his at the ministry – auror he is – and the situation is being handled, so there's really no reason to be troubled."

"What was the situation."

"Well, Weasley - " Draco saw red again. "He, um, well, I don't know what the lead up was, but when I got there, I um, had to cast a shield charm. It was just a good thing I recognized them in time, otherwise, I might have…" He stopped listening. He turned on his heel, ready to storm away.

Forty-five steps to the nearest apparition point. Twenty-two steps from the ministry apparition point to the lifts. Seventy flights to the holding cells in the ministry. Somewhere between eight and thirty-seven steps to the Weasel's cell. A few spells, the gate would be open. One more and he would be dead. He felt a smirk tug up at his lips. Picturing the Weasel. Dead. On the floor of the cell. His own fate be dam- A small hand slipped into his own. The small gesture shook his fantasies away. He looked down. Her bright blue eyes looked up at him.

The crease between his eyebrows smoothed. His nose relaxed, no longer scrunched. His lips slid back a normal position. He gave a small squeeze to her hand and allowed her to lead him back to the table. Before they were within earshot, she whispered "He called her a traitor." This time he fought the red.

Draco slid into the booth, pulling Lucy with him. They sat in silence. Nicholas came to say his goodbyes, promising to keep them updated. Madam Rosmerta brought them a round of drinks – a butterbeer for Lucy and a bottle of Fire Whiskey with two glasses for the older students. It took all of Draco's willpower not to down the whole bottle. When the stools began to flip onto tables and regulars became scarce, Draco finally spoke, "Let's go home."

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Lucy had been raised in a house full of hatred. When she was born, Lucy was shunned by her mother. The same mother who then died when Lucy was five. Lucy was left with an absentee father and a terrified nanny. After the details of her father's involvement in the war became common knowledge, Lucy realized she was probably _lucky_ he was never home. Even without his physical presence, the house oozed evil. Black marble and dark walls. Heavy curtains and century-old furniture. The nanny was afraid of setting a toe out of line. The elves cowered in fear. Lucy stayed in her room. She was accustomed to evil and she was accustomed to hatred. She had grown a thick skin, even at the age of eleven, and the insults the redhead had thrown her way had rolled off her like an ocean's wave.

Hermione, on the other hand, had lived in a loving household. Her parents both came home every night. She spent her school years with friends supporting each other and conquering the evil of Lucy's world. When the war broke out in its entirety, the capacity of other humans to hate astounded her. They won. Voldemort was dead. The Death Eaters were rounded up. Trials were conducted. Those who were evil were locked away, those who weren't were set free. Nothing had prepared her for her own friend to turn against her.

Lucy had never had friends and her father was one of the worst the world had to offer. She expected nothing from anyone, including the redheaded, freckle-faced member of the Golden Trio.

She looked herself in the mirror with a dead expression. Flicked away the one lone tear. She shifted her hips into a more casual stance, tossed her hair over her shoulder and plastered a seemingly-genuine smile onto her face. Having a psychopath for a father had its advantages.

She grabbed her school bag and set off for the library. Exams were five months away.

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They sat in the Hogwarts kitchens, each on a barstool. She hadn't said a word. Not a single word. He had never tried to force someone into a conversation. Most people were insipid morons. He couldn't give less of a shit about most people. But making it his mission to make her speak was keeping him from storming the ministry to kill the Weasel.

"'Mione, please," Draco pushed the mug closer to Hermione, "The e- _Winky_ would be very upset with you if you didn't drink the hot chocolate she made you." Silently, as she did everything, Hermione picked up the mug and took a sip, "Do you, um, do you want to talk about what the Wea – what _he_ said."

Silence.

"'Mione, if you don't say something soon, I'm going to have to call Potter. He seems to be able to get through to you – I just – 'Mione, I need you to say _something_. Anything. Literally _anything._ "

She croaked, "Don't. Just don't call Harry. He's never – he's never seen - " Draco understood. Potter had never seen her cry. He rested his hand on her back, fingers spread and spanning almost the entire surface. She tensed a moment.

Draco never considered himself good at comforting women. Last Halloween he had learned he could comfort this woman, relatively well. In the past year he had grown accustomed to tears, so when she began sobbing, he knew what to do. But this silence –

"What do you want me to do?" He asked.

Silence.

Hermione stood, pushing back on the stool. It almost toppled, but Draco's reflexes caught it, just like he caught himself when he almost toppled with the force of his bushy haired companion. She threw herself at him, burying her face in his neck and wrapping her arms around him. He had been sitting with his legs spread, just far enough that she snuck between them. Now standing, she was just as tall as he was sitting. One of his arms wound around her waist, the other stroked her hair.

They stayed like that. The elves prepared and served Christmas dinner. They cleared the remains. Still they stayed. Him sitting her standing. She grew tired, but still she clung to him, resting most of her weight on Draco's solid form.

"Why does he keep showing up? Why can't he just leave me alone?" Draco tightened his hold on her, convinced she would fall apart without his arms.

 **A.N.** Hope your Christmases were better than Hermione's, but this really gets the story going. Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

Draco Malfoy had learned many things last year. He learned that blood superiority was completely and utterly ridiculous. He had doubted its merits in the past, but the last year had destroyed any remnant inclinations. He also learned that it took Voldemort twelve minutes and fifty-six seconds to travel from his wing of the Manor to Draco's room. By the time an elf alerted Draco to the Dark Lord's impending arrival, he had seven minutes and forty seconds at most to clear all signs of life from his room and evacuate the grounds. This was how Draco had gained a great respect for house elves in the last year. It took him less than a month to perfect his procedure; it took him only five minutes to erase his magical signature from the room. Only once had Draco failed in his escape when Astoria Greengrass had obstructed his escape. Bellatrix would just appear. There was no escaping her. Either way, Draco had perfected his internal clock: tracking his escape time, counting down meeting lengths, distracting himself from the torture.

That was how Draco knew Hermione had clung to him for thirty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds. His ability to count seconds, minutes and hours in the back of his hand might have saved his life last year, but now, it only made him acutely conscious of her silence.

When his clock finally ticked past forty-five minutes, _he_ broke the silence, "'Mione," he waited. She didn't move. Had she fallen asleep? "We're going to go do something." He applied a light pressure to her shoulders and she stood straight, hinging away from him at her waist. She took a step back and he quickly followed. Occupying the space she had just vacated, they were chest to chest. He rested one hand on her hip and laced the fingers of his other through hers, "Come on."

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 _He just kept showing up_. There was no _reason_ that _he_ should be _living_ in Hogsmeade! So what if his pregnant _fiancé_ was still in school. He could apparate for visits. Hermione had decided to come back to school. Hermione had staked her claim on Hogwarts and the adjacent village. Apparently that claim was not recognized by all parties. She had lost her boyfriend. With him her future. Then her room. Her Christmas. And now her town.

She would be sentenced to her room in the Slytherin dungeons. Her date of release would be graduation. After her release, she could spend some time looking for her parents, maybe she'd move to Australia. Or maybe, if they truly were gone, she'd move to the Americas. She had heard Draco had spent time in the United States. It seemed to do him wonders; rid him of the horrors of a war. Maybe a year or two abroad would rid her of the horrors of a broken heart. She had wanted to continue her education past Hogwarts anyway… She would have to talk to Professor McGonagall…

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Draco led her unresponsive body through the halls of Hogwarts. Down and down. Deeper and deeper. Hermione noticed that they passed the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitory, then, a while later, the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons and the potions classroom. They were in the deepest bowels of the castle and yet they kept going. The stone hallways turned to rough stone. When Draco pulled her through a heavy wooden door, the rough stone path turned into a rickety staircase. She suddenly knew exactly where they were and where they were going.

She tugged at his arm. She had unknowingly been gripping his arm for some time in hopes of keeping her balance on the uneven ground. He turned to look at her, the two of them in the dark, at the top of a staircase of questionable integrity, alone.

"It'll be cold." Her voice cracked. She hadn't spoken for some time now. Draco could confirm it had been an hour and three minutes since her last utterance.

"Trust me." He led her deeper and deeper. And she did.

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The sand shifted under her boots as Hermione followed Draco to the edge of the water. With a flick of his wand, his heavy coat and winter boots disappeared, leaving only swim trunks in his place. Her protective instincts prickled, "Draco! It's the dead of winter! You'll catch your death!" She raised her wand, the conjuring spell on the tip of her tongue.

"Will I, 'Mione?" His smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. _She was talking. Nagging even. That was good._ The retort died on her lips. She was warm. Hot. It was hot. In the Scottish Highlands. In late December. "Hot spring under the castle."

"That's not in _Hogwarts: A History._ " She quipped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not recent copies. I read it in the 1965 edition. They removed it because too many students would sneak down here." He held his arms out, gesturing to the small beach around them. He turned from her and walked to the water's edge. Small waves lapped at his feet. "Coming?"

Hermione shook her head. She discarded her heavy winter cloak and settled onto the ground, some ten feet from Draco and the water's edge. She kicked off her boots and pulled off her wool socks.

"And why not?" He rested his hands on his hips in his best impression of her.

"I don't like lakes." Matter of fact. A statement. Not to be questioned.

"You don't like lakes?" Of course he managed to question the unquestionable.

"There are _creatures_ in lakes. And they're dirty. And you can't see the bottom. And they're dirty." Her nose wrinkled. His eyes widened. Wasn't he supposed to be the hoity one? He spent his vacations summering in French chateaus. She spent her time camping in the wilderness hunting horcruxes. She had _worn_ a Voldemort's horcrux. But a lake was what repulsed her.

"Granger, get your ass over here." No. "Let's go." No. She was talking again, and that was all that mattered. "Do I need to _make_ you?"

"Make me?" Her eyebrow arched.

"Make you." He nodded once. She scoffed and he flicked his wrist.

Water sprung from the lake, shooting towards the girl and coiling around her body. Her eyes widened as she was flung through the air and over Draco's head, flopping down into the water.

Draco's smirk grew wider as he heard the Head Girl _thulmp_ into the water. He turned to survey the scene. Hermione broke the surface with an undignified shriek. Her arms flailed and splashed, her head broke the surface enough for him to hear: _can't swim._

A jolt of ice shot through his spine, settling where his heart ought to be. He sprung from the water's edge, tearing his way towards her. Draco reached her just as her head sunk under water for the umpteenth time. Grabbing her hips, he hoisted her up, shoving his own head below the water in favor of ensuring she could catch her breath. A moment later, he settled her onto his hip and swam both of them to shallower water so he could firmly plant both his feet in the sand.

No sooner had he done this, standing with the water lapping at his chest, than a wave crashed over him, then another, and another. Hermione was ripped from his arms by the onslaught of waves.

 _He was going to be the death of Hermione Granger. After everything they had both been through_ he _was going to kill her_ trying to cheer her up _. Typical._

Through no small feat of strength and magic, Draco freed himself from the vengeful waves. He spun in place, trying to catch sight of the small brunette. On his third spin he did. And his eyes narrowed as a result.

She was standing in knee-deep water. Her hair plastered to her head and back, almost reaching past her bum and steadily dripping. Her robes clung to her body only to hang limply around her legs. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her right fingers twirling her wand about. Hermione smirked at the panicked expression on his face, but her eyes stayed hard as steel. If Draco wasn't the butt of her joke, he would have been proud.

"Of course I can swim, you dolt." She taunted, "Don't you pay attention to Professor Binns? I plummeted from a Ukrainian Ironbelly and _swam to shore._ I told you, I _don't_ like lakes."

Draco just stared at her. She had pretended to drown. For revenge. How very Slytherin of her. He had to push the image of Hermione with a Slytherin tie slung around her neck from his mind's eye.

"Draco." Hermione called - no, she _warned_. He was slinking towards her like a predatory cat. "Draco, what are you doing?" She could see the mischievous glint to his eyes. It only became more pronounced as he drew closer. It was etched into the lines of his face, the curve of his smirk. He was planning something and she did _not_ want to find out what. "Draco, I'm sorry. Won't do it again, I swear."

He spoke then, only about an arm's length away from her. She tensed her muscles, ready to spring away from him if he reached for her. "No. No you won't. Scared me half to death, you did." His wand was out before she could react. For the second time that evening, Hermione found herself spiraling through the air, into the deeper water.

When she resurfaced, in water just deeper than she was tall, she noticed something was _different._ Her jeans and jumper were long gone, instead she was clad in a tasteful one piece. She swam in a circle, to glare at Draco. She raised her eyebrow, _really_. His arms were crossed and he shrugged with a smirk on his face. He wasn't sorry. In fact, he was rather proud of his handiwork.

 _Two could play at this game._ With a flick of her wand, Hermione erupted a geyser just below Draco. The blond flew into the air, only to fall back onto the geyser's crest. He was suspended like that, with the geyser beating against his bottom, for far longer than he would have liked. Hermione laughed at the scowl on his face, until he responded in kind, creating a whirlpool in the water surrounding her.

For another hour the pair battled it out in the water. Hermione launched waves and Draco sent tsunamis. Draco copied her geysers, Hermione redoubled her efforts, launching him so high he was pressed flush against the ceiling of the cavern. In the end, Hermione mustered all her power to conjure the largest wave of the night to propel Draco onto the beach. The boy lay on his back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Hermione walked through the water onto the beach. She collapsed beside him, their arms barely brushing.

The water lapped at the shore, slowly returning to its usual, uninterrupted, ebb and flow. Their breathing fall into sync, heaving in and out as their bodies slowed. Hermione rolled onto her side, propping herself onto her elbow to look down at her companion. "Thank you." She whispered down to him.

"Anytime 'Mione, anytime." He said with a contented sigh and a smile.

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Draco sat on his bed, turning a wrapped package over in his hands. He had planned to give the gift to Hermione in Hogsmeade, but then he had found her in the Three Broomsticks and all thoughts of Christmas had fled his mind. It was exactly what his mother had instructed. The box was not terribly large, approximately half the size of his forearm. Wrapped in a shiny, silver paper with a dark maroon bow. He had argued with his mother about the gift, but in the end, she had won: _Mother knows best, Draco._

A knock sounded on his door. Draco stood and crossed his small, dimly lit room. He pulled the door open to reveal the object of his thoughts.

"Hi." She smiled, but her eyes scanned his face, looking for something. What, he didn't know. He returned her greeting nonetheless, "I, um, I got you something for Christmas. It's fine if you didn't get me anything, I just wanted you to have this -"

"'Mione, of course I got you something." He pulled the door open further, allowing her to enter. "I was just thinking about bringing it to you. I wasn't sure if you'd still be up." He sat in his desk chair, turning it to face her.

"I'm usually up," Upon seeing his raised brow she continued "I haven't slept very well since the war."

"Me either." He admitted. An understanding passed between them in a moment of silence, "Come. Sit." He gestures to the bed.

She primly sat on the edge of his bed. He remembered then that she had spent several weeks _sleeping_ in his bed. As it were, she gripped the edge of the bed tightly, her eyes wandering across the desk behind him. "Where's your dragon?" He raised his eyebrow, "The silver one with the red eyes-"

"I know." A muscle by his mouth twitched, "I'm not entirely sure where it ended up." Hermione knew that wasn't the whole story, but she chose not to push it. "That's your present there." Draco indicated the silver package on his nightstand.

Silently, Hermione handed Draco his gift. A large green box with a silver bow. She watched him intently. He took this as his cue to open his present first. He removed the wrapping to reveal a plain white box. Next went the lid and a thin layer of white tissue paper. For the second time that day, Draco flicked out a sweater. It was a dark green with cable knit patterns running its length. Hermione saw fit to explain, "I noticed you always wear black. Or your school clothes. I figured you'd like the green, and it's dark, but it's muggle and I'm not sure if its the right size and - I have the receipt if you'd like to return it, I won't be offended."

"It's perfect," He gave her a soft smile and pulled it over his head - he was only wearing a t-shirt after all. He silently and wandlessly cast an enlarging spell since the sweater _was_ a bit too snug, but Hermione did not need to know this. "Open yours."

She picked up the gift and gingerly picked at its edges. Taking great care not to ruin the wrapping paper, Hermione picked apart the material to reveal the black box Draco had stared at for the better part of the afternoon. She eyed him skeptically. He egged her on with a jerk of his head. Hermione lifted the lid to reveal a short silver chain, about seven or eight inches, nestled in black velvet. It was as beautiful as a plain silver chain could be - smooth, shiny, and, if Hermione knew Draco, expensive. Draco chuckled at the confused expression spreading across her face - there was no clasp to give away the chain's purpose, after all. He reached for the box, brushing his fingers against hers. Gently, Draco took the box back into his possession and lifted the chain to dangle from his pinched fingers between the pair. He held out his other hand, palm up. She took the hint, laying her palm in his.

Draco looped the chain around her wrist. The metal came to life, the two ends of the chain fusing together to lock the bracelet into place. After holding her hand in both of his larger ones for one more moment, Draco released her. Hermione took back her wrist to inspect the silver chain daintily looped around her wrist. Draco had looked away to set the box aside when he heard her gasp.

He had been worried ever since his mother had suggested the gift that the bracelet would harm her. His wand was out, curses on the tip of his tongue to force the bracelet from her wrist.

"Draco, it's beautiful, but it's far too much, I can't accept it." The adrenaline slowed as he inspected the scene in front of him.

Hermione was still holding her bracelet up to her eyes to inspect it, but it was no longer a simple silver chain. Mother had warned him that this might happen. The metal was now thread through eight gems. Three blue, a green, a white, a red and two oranges. She was still protesting, when Draco spoke next, "It's not too much. It's been in the family for a while. My mother suggested you would make better use of it than either she or I would."

"You asked your mother about what to get me for Christmas?" Her face was inscrutable, "She knows that we're - that we're friends?"

He recognized the emotion sneaking around in the depths of her eyes and in the slight twitch of her mouth. She was nervous.

To all the world, Narcissa Black Malfoy was nothing little more than a Death Eater's wife and a Voldemort sympathizer. The kindest description Draco had heard of his mother was that dubbing her a beautiful, but brainless, socialite. She had been spared Azkaban in part because of Potter's testimony on her behalf, but, in general, the Wizengamot thought her foolish and lacking sufficient agency to be considered guilty, as if she was a child, as he had been. Narcissa let them believe she was a ditz, that she did not know any better, because it served her. What the world did not know was that Narcissa was a world class actress. She had been sorted into Slytherin some thirty years ago not because she hated muggles, but because she would do what it took to survive.

As the most eligible daughter of Cyngus Black, Narcissa had resigned herself to being married off for status at a young age. She was lucky that Lucius was not a cruel man; it would not have prevented the pairing. When her new husband's affinity, or lack thereof, towards muggles became apparent, Narcissa continued her hateful act. When her son was born, she redoubled her performance so as not to attract attention as she discreetly encouraged doubts in her son's mind. Narcissa and her son would survive, even if that meant destroying the traditions of two centuries-old pureblood lines.

"She does." Draco nodded, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

"And she's _alright_ with it?" Hermione's surprise was palpable.

"She is."Another nod.

"Oh." Draco chuckled and she scowled, "I still can't accept this. Each of these stones alone must be worth -"

"Quite a bit. But that's irrelevant. They - along with the bracelet - are yours now. The bracelet wouldn't have sealed around your wrist unless it was meant to be there. Magic and all that." She did not respond and the smile threatening her scowl died on her lips, "You alright, Granger?"

"I'm fine." She muttered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Granger, I've known you for eight years. I can read you better than that."

"You didn't _know_ me until the beginning of this year." Hermione muttered, letting her gaze wander anywhere but to him.

"I had learned to read you by second year," he rolled his eyes, "Now I'm just using my powers for good instead of evil." A watery chuckle broke through her lips, "Now what's wrong?"

"Mrs. Weasley invited us for New Year's Eve." She fiddled with her bracelet, pushing the stones up and down the silver. "Said _he_ wouldn't be there."

"Us?"

"You, me, and Lucy." She admitted, now spinning the stones.

"Do you want to go?" He asked.

"Do you?" Her response was quick.

"Only if you do."

"I _don't_ want to go if he'll be there." She pouted, a plump bottom lip jutting past the top.

"Then I suppose that's settled. We'll arrange to floo from McGonagall's office, Thursday at five sound good?" She looked up at him with shocked eyes. "Great. Now when do you plan to begin reviewing for N.E.W.T.s?"

This distracted her. All thoughts of red heads and lost loves fled her mind as she went on and on about her elaborate study plans. She offered to make him a schedule as well, but he politely declined. Unlike Harry or _the other one_ , Draco let her go into detail about her plans. She would start with arithmancy - she was quite confident there - and progress through potions and charms and then to transfiguration.

Draco, meanwhile, had other matters on his mind. Light blue, dark blue, dark blue, green, solid white, red, orange, orange. Draco did his best to recall his knowledge of gemstones. The light blue could be a variety of stones, but the two darker stones were almost certainly September's sapphires. The green was too light to be an emerald, so he concluded it was a peridot. August. The white stone was a pearl, he was positive. June. The orange stones must be citrines. November. The red could be a garnet or a ruby, the remaining blue an aquamarine, tourmaline, topaz, or turquoise. January or July, March, October, November or December. He couldn't help but smile. She would have a future. A very busy future. A future far busier than that of any Malfoy woman. Draco tried to ignore the pit settling in his gut.

He refocused his attention on the witch on his bed. She had fallen asleep. Her back was against the wall, she must have pushed herself back further on the bed at some point. Her head slumped to the side. Draco stood with a sigh. Looping one arm under her knees and reaching the other around her back, Draco supported Hermione as he shifted her body into a position fit for sleeping. He settled back into his chair and once again rested his elbows on his knees.

Draco knew there was a couch in the other room. He knew he could easily carry her to her own bed. He even knew she would not begrudge him for waking her up. But she had had a long day and he didn't mind spending his night in his chair. Falling asleep admiring her soft curls was well worth the discomfort he would suffer in the morning.

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Hermione woke to dark furnishings, a sharp departure from the gold and white of her room. She hadn't realized how accustomed to her own dungeon room. She lifted her head to take in her surroundings, recognizing the room easily as Draco's bedroom. She must have fallen asleep talking about her study plans. Harry and _the other one_ would never let her live _that_ down. She stretched her toes and flexed her ankles, she wiggled her fingers. A soft material slipped through her fingers. Draco's hair. At some point in the night, Draco had fallen asleep in his chair and fell forward so that his head rested on the edge of the bed. This was the third time in less than a week that she had awoken next to Draco Malfoy. Ginny would have a field day with that.

She let her hands run through his hair and smiled to herself. It was just so soft. Hermione slid her hand over his cheek and cupped it with her palm, running her thumb under his lip. She had kissed those lips only a week ago. She wanted to kiss those lips again. That thought shocked even her. He had to wake up. Now. Hermione ruffled his hair playfully. After a low grumble, he cracked open a single eye.

Without opening the other eye, Draco hoisted himself fully onto the bed. Crowding her against the wall, Draco lined his body up with Hermione's, careful not to make any unnecessary contact. Hermione rolled onto her side, still facing Draco, and lifted her head. He slid his arm underneath and curled it to hold her close. She let out a sigh and rested her hand on his chest. She could feel him playing with the ends of her hair behind her back and stifled a smile as she let his steadying breathing lull her back to sleep.

"If you're not careful, 'Mione, I'm going to get used to waking up next to you. Twice within twenty-four hours and all." His voice was soft, without any of its usual bite.

"I know what you mean."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Hermione!" Lucy called from the top of the staircase, "Let's go, we're going to be late."

Hermione gulped. Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth. "Lu, you go ahead Let the headmistress know we'll be there in a moment." He turned to Hermione, "You know what I'm about to ask."

She slumped over the banister, looking down at the floors below, "Nothing's wrong."

"Bull." He placed a hand on the banister on either side of her, "Look at me." She hesitated, but turned in place, coming face to face with Draco. "Now tell me what's wrong." Their noses were almost touching, she could feel his breath playing across her lips.

"Nothing." She bit her lip, he raised his eyebrow, she looked away, "I just - what if _he's_ there? We saw how well that went last time I ran into him." She rolled her eyes at herself.

"Hermione, what worries you about seeing him?" She felt his nose bump into the side of hers.

"He was my best friend for years. He knows me better than anyone. He says I'm stupid and ugly and insufferable, a whore and a traitor, and -"

"Look at me." Hermione looked up at him and started. His face was the same face as the boy who had tormented her for all those years. His eyes were steel, his brow was furrowed. His nose was wrinkled and his scowl was permanently plastered onto his lips. The fear was chased away by something else. Something primal. He could be a viscous git, but she didn't need to hear his next words to know that _this time_ it was for the better, " _If_ he is there and _if_ he says _a single_ word against you, _I_ will deal with him. Understand?"

She should scold him for threatening Ron. For acting like she couldn't defend herself. But that primal thrill grew stronger and she felt more sure of herself than she had in months. Hermione rested her hand on Draco's, turning it over in hers and lacing their fingers together, "We better get going."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione stepped out of the floo first, followed quickly by Lucy. Draco lurked in the background.

"Hermione!" Ginny sprung from her station by the counter to embrace her friend, "I am so sorry for that git. He called Harry to spring him from the Ministry the other night. Left him there for a couple nights, we did. Felt glorious." Before the guilt and sorrow could consume her, Draco's hand pressed against the small of her back. She fought a chuckle at the thought of Ron sitting in a holding cell for a few days. Satisfied that Hermione could hold her own, Draco retracted his hand and Hermione shivered. Ginny raised a brow at her friend, but turned to the other two, "Hey Lucy, Teddy is in the living room through that door, but we're going to make cookies in a bit, so don't go too far." Lucy quickly fled the room, anxious to see the little boy she had grown so fond of, "Draco, good to see you." Hermione could _feel_ the surprise roll off Draco from behind.

"Good to see you too, Ginerv - Ginny." Hermione felt a smirk tug at her lips remembering him calling Ginny _Ginerva_ earlier in the year.

Then Molly Weasley was upon them. Her mother-hen instincts overshadowing any animosity she might have towards Draco. She straightened his sweater, the one she had just gifted him, and commented that he was too skinny for his own good. Then she turned to Hermione, apologizing over and over again on behalf of her youngest son and reminding Hermione that she was always welcome at the Burrow. "Now off you get, the others are in the other room. Planning a game of Quidditch, I think." Hermione and Ginny hurried into the other room without giving Draco another look.

"Mrs. Weasley," Draco called from across the room. The Weasley matriarch startled, but turned to face the young man, "I had an elf get this from the Manor's stores. I wasn't sure what was appropriate." He produced a large, and certainly expensive, wine bottle from the inside of his cloak. The woman thanked him and crossed the room to take it, "And I just wanted to say how sorry I am for everything that happened to you and your family during the war. If there is ever anything I can do to help any of you, please, don't hesitate to ask."

The woman studied Draco for a moment. He had spent his summer taking over the family business. Part of this task was to negotiate with CEOs of some of the world's largest companies. Against these formidable leaders, he had held his own, but now, staring down this short, plump, older woman, he was quaking in his boots.

"Oh Draco, dear, call me Molly." She pulled him into a hug. He awkwardly attempted to return it; he wasn't used to such outward affection. "Now, I don't want to hear another word about it. Now hurry off, I think someone is looking for you." Molly jerked her head towards the door that led to the living room. The doorway was not empty and Draco did not miss Molly's sly wink.

"I was wondering what happened to you." Hermione smiles softly, holding out her hand for him.

Since Christmas Day, Draco and Hermione had been inseparable. This meant many late nights that resulted in sleep overs. But much like sharing a table in the library, there was always a pretense. Draco would enter her room so she could show him what a pen was. They would then debate its value compared to a quill which would move to parchment versus paper. Soon enough Hermione would be lulled to sleep in the bed and he in the chair. He would join her when one of them woke up later that night. Hermione would follow Draco into his room to try and find the missing dragon. Her curiosity never waned. She'd search and search as he would peruse a book. Eventually she'd sit beside him with her own book until her head slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed.

Every morning, they woke up beside each other. Draco would have an arm wrapped possessively around her, his thumb unconsciously stroking the expanse of skin exposed when her shirt rode up. Hermione would loop her leg around his and rest her hand on his chest, just between his pecs. Once, she could have sworn he pressed a kiss to the top of her head when he thought she was sleeping.

Things were good for Draco. Great, even. He was one step closer to getting that Gryffindor notch.

Draco let a lazy smile tease at the corners of his lips as he pulled away from Molly. He crossed the small kitchen with three strides and let Hermione rest her hand on his back and accompany him into the room.

The room was surprisingly large, even if the furniture was terribly mismatched. He took a moment to look around the room and take stock of its occupants. There was a lot of red hair. Too much red hair. He easily distinguished Bill Weasley from his brothers. He was the only one with a deformed face and with a beautiful, pregnant blonde perched beside him on the loveseat. Across from them, sat another redhead. This one had glasses. Percy. Hermione had told him to steer clear of him; Percy was searching for backers for a project of his at the ministry and the Malfoy name still meant something in terms of money and power. He saw Potter and Ginny sitting on the staircase, watching Teddy and Lucy play in front of the fire. Lucy was trying to demonstrate the movements required for a simple _Wingardium Leviosa._ George sat a step above his sister and her fiancé, with his own girlfriend, Angelina Johnson, heckling Percy whenever the chance presented itself. Mr. Weasley sat comfortably on a window seat, stroking an atrociously orange cat.

"Crooks!" Hermione exclaimed, drawing the monster's attention.

The cat fluidly lowered itself from its perch, setting its orange eyes on the newly arrived pair. _Crooks_ , as Hermione had called him, strutted across the floor. Hermione knelt to great her cat, but he only offered her a sideways glance before passing her to twine between Draco's legs. Hermione, and everyone else in the room who had noticed the exchange, widened their eyes and dropped their jaws.

"You?" Draco accused the cat, "I thought I was rid of you." Surprising everyone, Draco bent down and scooped the cat into his arms and Crookshanks _did not_ claw out his eyes. "Of course, he's yours." He directed at Hermione while he scratched behind the cat's ears, "I see the resemblance. Doesn't anyone ever comb you?" His attention was back on the cat.

"May I please have him now?" Hermione held out her arms, tapping her foot, clearly annoyed. Draco shrugged, handing Crookshanks over to his rightful owner. "And how do _you_ know my cat?"

"I'm hurt, Granger. Don't want your cat hanging out with the likes of me?" He faked shame, she rolled her eyes, "He used to wander down to the dungeons often enough. Even made it into the common room once or twice."

"Bloody cat's a Slytherin, should've known." George grumbled from his spot on the steps, then a bit louder, "Looks like you have a type, Hermione."

Hermione sputtered, her cheeks reddening. It was Ginny that spoke next, despite Mr. Weasley's attempts to spare his adopted daughter the embarrassment, "And what type is that George?"

"Sssslytherin." He snaked out the word, devolving into deep chuckles. His antics brought at least a smile to every on in the room. At least Fleur hid hers behind her hand.

"Mrs. Weasley mentioned a quidditch game." Draco drew attention away from his companion. Hermione peeked out from behind Crookshank's bushy hair.

"Need to wait for Charlie. That way we'll have an even eight. Two chasers, a keeper, and a seeker. We don't play with bludgers." Draco nodded to Harry and joined Hermione on an atrociously mismatched sofa in front of a roaring fire.

"You going to pout that your cat likes me better than you all day?" Draco dropped his head to her shoulder and muttered.

"He does not like you -"

" _Everyone_ in the wizarding world likes me better than you." He rolled his eyes. She snorted. "Why didn't the furry beast join us in the dungeons this year?"

"He wasn't here when I left for school. Ran off during the war." She smooshed the grumpy cat's cheeks. The cat did not looked pleased. "When did he wander back?"

"Just a couple days ago. After Christmas." Mr. Weasley offered, newly interested in Teddy and Lucy's action figure story.

Harry watched the new arrivals with more scrutiny than anyone would have expected, given the others' warm welcome. Everyone in the room were under strict order to behave themselves courtesy of Molly Weasley. She insisted that she would not allow her New Year's to be ruined like her Christmas had been. Harry and Draco had struck up a sort of truce in the air on Christmas Eve. That did not mean Harry trusted the other boy, especially with someone as precious to him as Hermione.

It was a persistent battle warring inside his head. Harry trusted Hermione and she trusted Draco, but Harry sure as hell did not trust Malfoy. Normally, Harry would storm Hogwarts, convince Professor McGonagall that Hermione had lost her mind, and drag his best friend to St. Mungo's for a comprehensive evaluation. But everytime he saw Hermione since she left on the Hogwarts Express in August, she looked healthier and healthier, despite a _minor_ setback on Halloween. Through his letters with Ginny, he knew there was at least a correlation between Hermione's physical, mental, and emotional health and her relationship with Draco Malfoy.

 _He challenges her._ Ginny had wrote. _They study together. No one has ever managed to keep up with Hermione. And in every one of her classes. Every. Single. One._ Harry had conceded that Malfoy was smart. He didn't need to be persuaded to see that. Draco had always been second in the class, right behind Hermione. Redemption and relationships needed to be based on more than intelligence.

Harry began to worry when Hermione began writing to him and mentioning Draco. _I was reading a phenomenal book Draco leant me, it's called the Most Famous Centaur Revolts of the Past Five Centuries. It told me everything I could possibly need to know…_ Hermione went on and on about how integral that book was on a paper she was writing and how _Draco_ was so helpful in all of her school work. Harry didn't think anything of it until he saw Hermione and Malfoy at the Halloween Ball.

Harry had been afforded a front row seat to Malfoy's reaction. It had been subtle, but Harry had become more perceptive during his year on the run. At first, his eye crinkled in concern and then a grimace appeared, followed by a scowl and a glare at Nott. Then the concern was back and Malfoy leaned slightly forward in his chair, his legs shaking out, as if preparing to stand. Harry hadn't thought too much of it at the time since Malfoy was supposed to meet Hermione for the second dance. In hindsight, Malfoy's reactions might have been defensive. Protective. Then the anger flooded into Malfoy's face, but Harry was distracted by Ron and Hermione's bickering. _He's a fucking Death Eater. It's a_ tradition, _Ron._

The next time Harry had given Malfoy a second thought was when he hesitantly took Hermione's waist after Ron had deserted her in the middle of the dance floor. Ginny had gone after Ron, leaving Harry with nothing to do other than watch one of his best friends be twirled around the dancefloor by one of his enemies.

Now, they spoke softly to one another. Mirth flickering into Hermione's eyes. For his part, Malfoy didn't seem unhappy; the corners of his eyes crinkled but his back remained ramrod straight. This was the best that could be expected of a Malfoy in a den of Weasleys, Harry supposed. Hermione let out a peel of laughter at something Malfoy had said and the happiness reached her eyes. Harry hadn't seen that fire since she had returned from Australia.

"So there's no chance of me getting you up on a broom?" Draco whispered to Hermione. Even Crookshanks seemed to laugh, "I'll go _really_ slow. And no dives. Promise."

"Sorry, Draco, you'll just have to wrestle the House Cup from Ginny some other way." Draco let the air out between his teeth. "I'll watch though."

He rolled his eyes and promised, "I'll get you on a broom sooner or later."

"Later. Definitely later."

"Don't you dare, Harry Potter." Ginny quietly warned her fiance.

"Don't I dare what?" He challenged.

"Don't you dare ruin her happiness."


	15. Chapter 15

The wind ripped at Draco's hair. He flew high above the rest, higher than even Potter, looking for the snitch. Draco had insisted Charlie take the position of seeker, but Charlie had argued that Draco wouldn't know any plays, that Draco needed to be a team of one. So Draco was alone once again, but this time he didn't mind. His position gave him the perfect vantage point to watch Hermione as she sat on a hideous, green sofa, surrounded by a warming charm.

Hermione had a large book in her lap. She flipped the pages at regular intervals, but barely offered it a passing glance. Instead, she watched the wintery landscape and the eight players against the cloud-covered sky. One player stood out, his bright blue shirt standing out more so than that of any of his teammates. Hermione tried to convince herself that it was because he hovered so far from anyone else or because he remained so still. But she knew she was kidding herself.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

" _Hermione._ " George whined an hour later, "Your boyfriend cheated." Still whining. Whining with such dramatic flair that Hermione was transported back _years_ to when she had to deal with that _boyfriend_ in their first year.

" _George._ " Hermione mocked. The teams had just landed. Charlie and Bill bumped Draco fondly as the three landed. Draco let his half-smile pull at the corner of his lips. Percy lagged behind them, stunned to be on the winning team; Percy's team never won. Harry looked dazed as he landed by Ginny, who looked equally as shocked. Angelina was only a couple steps behind George, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "I do believe my most recent _boyfriend_ left me alone at a ball right after he told the entire wizarding world that he cheated on me. Are you referring to _that boyfriend_? Because if you are, then yes, judging by Lavender's swollen stomach, he definitely cheated." George gaped and the approaching Gryffindor's halted, worried that Hermione's smirking facade would shatter.

Only Draco, snitch in hand, continued to approach. He collapsed onto the other end of the sofa and let a slow grin grace his face, only for Hermione to see. He looked like the cat that ate the canary. Or rather, the cat that caught the snitch and was watching his lioness go serpentine on some Weasels. Draco liked George. He liked all the older Weasley brothers, and the Weaslette. They were easygoing and affable, and more intelligent than their youngest brother - which wasn't saying much. But no matter how quick he was with a joke, George Weasley could never match Draco's lioness. "'Mione, don't bully Georgie too much, he _just_ lost." Hermione swung her leg to swat his chest with her foot. "That's no way to treat a champion, Hermione."

"Don't you think the title _champion_ is a bit premature? You won one game of backyard Quidditch?"

"Rule 417 of Being A Malfoy: no title is _ever_ too premature for a Malfoy."

The pair went back and forth, arguing on the ugly green couch. Hermione's legs finally rested on the couch, the tips of her boots burrowing under Draco's thigh, but he didn't mind the mud sullying his jeans. Nothing a quick scourgify couldn't fix.

"Well," Percy was the first to grow uncomfortable, "We'll just leave you two to yourself then." He scurried away, closely followed by his siblings and Harry.

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Hermione leaned forward towards Draco, conspiratorially, "Did you cheat?"

"And spoil the victory?" Draco mocked hurt, "Don't you know me at all?"

"I do. Which is why I ask: 'Did you cheat?'"

He too leaned forward, his breath ghosting on Hermione's lips, "I don't cheat, 'Mione."

She had to swallow, trying to fix her mouth that had suddenly gone dry. She croaked out, "That's good to know."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco had done exceedingly well throughout dinner. Hermione beamed as he bickered with Bill and Charlie, as if they were old friends. The eldest Weasleys had been the first to forgive him of his sins; they had never experienced them first hand. Next, was Percy, who found an enthusiastic, wealthy audience in Draco. Percy was quick to rewrite history, painting Draco as a well-behaved child all through Percy's time as a prefect, earning him eye rolls from everyone else at thetable - Draco included. Hermione smiled when George listened raptly to Lucy's product proposals and quickly put a stop to Draco popping an unassuming chocolate into his mouth. Draco nodded gratefully to the brunette beside him. George scowled. A strange reversal of facial expressions.

A few hours later, the party found itself back in the living room. For the most part, that is; George and Angelina had excused themselves for a moment, promising to return for midnight. Draco thought the chances of that happening were unlikely. Either way, it didn't impact Draco so he didn't pay them another thought.

Harry, Ginny, Bill and Fleur were playing Exploding Snap. Charlie was picking on Percy as Draco had deduced was typical of their relationship. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat on the window bench, watching their brood socialize.

Draco sat on the ground in front of the fire. His back rested against a sofa with his temple pressed against Hermione's knee. She was reading to Lucy and Teddy; the toddler perched on her lap and the little girl tucked snuggly under her arm. A fairytale book. Hermione's favorite. A clock somewhere in the house struck nine. Hermione began to discuss bedtime with the two children and encountered strong backlash.

"Lucy," Draco turned his head and Hermione's fingers slipped from his hair. He hadn't realized they had been threaded into his blonde locks until just then. "Teddy. It's gotten late. It's already way past your normal bedtime." The door opened in the kitchen. George and Angelina returning from their _activities. Already?_ Draco was impressed.

"But it's a holiday." Lucy whined.

"Which is why you were able to stay up this late." Hermione kissed the little girl on the head, "And why we all get to stay here at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's home for the night-"

"Like hell you will!" A new voice entered the fray. Everyone in the room tensed. Hermione seemed to have a small seizure, her body jerked so suddenly.

"Ronald." Mrs. Weasley spoke in a measured voice from the back of the room. Hermione's hand was back in Draco's hair and he was _very_ aware of its presence this time. "I thought I made myself clear at Chris-"

"And I thought I made _myself_ clear, Molly." Lavender peaked out from behind Ron, her stomach protruding with eight months of pregnancy. "I _will_ _not_ attend family gatherings it that bint is here."

Two voices spoke in response to her comment. The first was much louder. George and Angelina had returned. George reminded Lavender that she had very deliberately not been invited. The new couple crossed the room to stand just behind Hermione. The second voice was soft, but left no room for argument.

"Ginny," Draco spoke without lifting his eyes from the spot on the carpet. He was working _very_ hard not to ignite the fibers, "Please take the children upstairs. It is bedtime."

"Harry, take the kids to bed." Harry tried to protest, but his fiance made it very clear what she thought of his attempted refusal. Harry scooped his godson off the couch from behind. He subtly squeezed Hermione's shoulder, trying to give her some strength, before he climbed the stairs with Lucy on his heels. Fleur, sensing that her presence was far less necessary than Harry's hurried up the stairs after him - well, hurried as quickly as she was able.

Draco finally looked up. His face schooled into the perfect expression of cool indifference, "What was that, Brown?" Lavender suddenly lost her voice, tucking herself back behind Ron.

"Get the Hell out of my house, Ferret." Ron barked, glaring down at the blonde boy. Draco remained where he sat, his knees up with his elbows rested upon them. He disinterestedly allowed his eyes to pass from Lavender to Ron.

"Make me, Weasel." Draco responded at the same time Bill spoke, "It's Mum and Dad's, Ron, not yours."

"You want me to make you? Fine I'll make you." Ron took a step forward. Draco extended his hand, palm facing out. Ron was halted by an unseen shield. His face grew red as he wasn't able to wandlessly blast through it. His wand came out, slashing this way and that, light erupting time and time again. He was beside himself when even that didn't work. He looked frantically around the room at his family, no one looked sympathetic.

"Whatever. Lav lav, let's go. We don't want to socialize with Death Eaters," he shot a glare at Draco, "traitors," another at his family, "Or whores." He leveled Hermione and Draco felt her fingers seize in his hair. "I dodged a bullet with you, Hermione, didn't I? No, fucking loyalty. I'm gone for two months and you shack up with a Death Eater. Do you put out for _him_?" Molly gasped and Percy turned bright red, "It was like grinding teeth to get anything from you. Want some advice, Malfoy? Move on. She's not worth the trouble."

Draco stood. All eyes shifted from Hermione to Malfoy. He took three steps forward. The shield seemed to disintegrate for now Draco and Ron were nose to nose. And they _were_ nose to nose since they were the same height. Ron hadn't had to stand up to someone his own size in years. "What did you say?" Quiet, but he commanded every ear in the room.

Ron gulped, but he did not have the good sense to retreat, "Your girlfriend's a whore. You're nothing more than a rebound from me. And she's more trouble than she's worth. Did I miss anything?" He snickered back at Lavender.

Before anyone could react, Draco pulled back his right arm and threw a punch at Ron's face. The effect was instantaneous. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley gasped. Ron crumpled as his nose crunched. "What the fuck?"

Draco hadn't been able to help himself and he still couldn't. Looking over his shoulder, he flashed a small grin at Hermione, "You were right. That _did_ feel good." Hermione couldn't take it. The stress of Ron appearing and the irony of Draco Malfoy using a muggle method to incapacitate him overwhelmed Hermione. She burst out in giggles, right there on the couch. Both men had called her horrible names in their lifetimes, she should be upset, but as Draco's smile quirked a bit wider, she had to clutch at her sides to stop the laughing stitches.

"Can't even fight your own battles, bitch?" Ron scowled from the floor.

"Call her that one more time." Draco threatened, "Once more Weasel and I'll break more than just your nose." Ron's hand dropped from his nose and he spoke in a dazed voice, his eyes wide. His lips moved, but no one could hear him. "You're going to have to repeat that Weasel."

"Keep your bloody hands off of her, Ferret!" He exploded, raising his voice and jumping up from the ground, tackling Draco as he went.

Mrs. Weasley started shrieking, yelling at her son to _be reasonable._ Mr. Weasley and the other Weasley men wanted to intervene, to pull the redhead and the blonde off one another, but the pair rolled around with such violence, that any attempt would result in a third party injury. Lavender yelled, _get off my Won won!_ Ginny watched Hermione, knowing her brother would listen to no reason. Hermione's panicked eyes flicked to Ginny's for only a moment, begging her closest friend to do something. There was a loud grunt from the rolling pile of testosterone as Draco flipped the redhead onto his back and restrained the flailing boy.

It clicked in Ginny's head just then. The skin around Hermione's eyes were still wrinkled with worry, but the panic was soothed. Malfoy had the upper hand, he was no longer getting hit, he was no longer in danger. And Hermione was no longer panicked. Instead, Hermione was intently combing over Malfoy's body, cataloguing his injuries. Much as she had done to all her friends after the Department of Mysteries fiasco Ginny's fourth year. The battle was over, she was shifting into damage-control-mode.

"Now, Weasel." Draco taunted, pinning Ron's wrists to the ground, "What was that you were saying."

"You love her." Ron grumbled from the floor, glaring daggers up at the Slytherin. His voice was just loud enough that Ginny could hear. Had her brother not put on such as display, she might have been proud of him for putting two and two together. "Why else would a Death Eater give two shits about a mudblood. The only other answer would be the sex, and sh-"

"It'd be a step up from you, Weasel." Now it was Draco's turn to glare down at the other boy. Their voices lowered so only they were privy to them.

"Ya right. I'm a war hero. You're a Death Eater." Ron smirked with superiority, despite his prone position.

Draco lowered himself so that the two boys were nose to nose once more. Grey eyes boring into blue, _daring_ him to dispute, "And don't you forget it." Ron's eyes widened. He had not anticipated that the other boy would embrace the title, "I have seen things you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares. You call yourself a war hero." Draco scoffed, a malicious grin spreading over his face, "You ran around the countryside on a scavenger hunt and then you gave up when the going got tough. I might have been on the wrong side of the war, Weasley, but I'm on the right side now. Don't think for one minute I won't use my _versatile skill set_ to protect _my side_."

Draco stood up and walked back to Hermione. Wordlessly, Hermione raised her wand at Draco and fired off a curse. It just barely missed Draco's head. His eyes widened at her. Had she heard him? A _thump_ made him turn around. Lavender was petrified, lying on the ground, her wand still outstretched. Draco looked back to Hermione, who shrugged with a smirk, "She raised her wand. It's not my fault she's slow." Draco shook his head. She was amazing.

"Ron," Harry had returned during the fist fight, unable to side with one of his best friends over the other's - Draco, "I really think it'd be best if you headed home for the night. I'll help you with Lavender if you want."

"Harry, you're not taking his side, are you?" Ron's ears reddened. He was still lying, spread on the floor.

"I told you, we fought a war so there would be no sides. Draco is only protecting Hermione. Something you could never be bothered with. Now do you want help with Lavender or is that it?"

Ron sputtered, not knowing which perversion to address first. He finally settled on shouting, "You just stay away from her!" Ron jumped to his feet, glaring at his longtime friend, "You stay away from her and Rosie and from me." Draco didn't miss Potter's eyes slide briefly to Hermione, nor did he miss Hermione's eye twitch.

"If that's what you want, Ron." Potter crossed his arms.

The group watched Ron try to lift Lavender's still-petrified form. Bill and Charlie each offered to help, but Ron warned them off with a glare. It took Ron five minutes to gather his fiance into his arms and leave the room. Another three minutes passed before they heard the woosh of the floo.

Draco made eye contact with Ginny. She gave him a pitying look. He knew what she was thinking. Hermione didn't approve of violence. She didn't approve of threats. And she was almost certainly not over Ron Weasley, whom Draco had just beaten. Draco squared his shoulders and turned to face Hermione. He never saw her, though. Instead, he felt her as she flew into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

Bewildered, Draco looked around at the Weasley clan, none of which were looking his way. Bill and Charlie were whispering urgently to one another. George and Angelina were convincing Percy that he _wasn't_ having a heart attack. Ginny and Harry were soothing the Weasley parents, who were absolutely horrified at their son's behavior. Draco gave in and rested his chin on the top of her head and pulled her closer with arms around her shoulders.

She tilted her head to look up at Draco, he in turn, lowered his chin. They were less than inches apart, but Draco wasn't stupid. He knew the Weasleys were all watching, despite appearing otherwise occupied. "You're hurt."

"Nothing too bad." Draco smirked

"Come on, let's go clean you up." Taking his hand, lacing her fingers through his, Hermione led Draco into the kitchen. Draco was very aware of the eldest two Weasley brothers watching the couple intently. Finally alone in the kitchen, Draco pulled her back towards him.

"I'm fine, Hermione, really." He searched her eyes, "Are you ok?" Hermione bit her lip, her eyes lost in thought, lost over his shoulder. "'Mione?"

With a blink, her eyes refocused on Draco's face, "I'm - I'm ok." A slow smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, growing bigger as she spoke, with wonder, "I'm really alright. A little peeved at him. And at you-"

"Me?" He should have expected it, he shouldn't have thought he got off that easily, but he was still surprised.

"Hop up." She gestured to the countertop.

"Whoa whoa whoa. I don't think Mrs. Weasley wou-"

"Mrs. Weasley would be more upset if you got blood on her towels. Hop up."

Deciding he would rather face Mrs. Weasley's wrath later than Hermione's now, Draco jumped onto the kitchen counter, still protesting that he was fine. Hermione's face was set in a scowl as she observed the cuts and blooming bruises spattered across Draco's face and body. "Still worth it."

"You stupid," Hermione tapped her wand to Draco's split lip, "aggressive," She swiped her wand across his bruised cheekbone, "violent," Rested the wand on the tip of his nose, "hotheaded," Cleared the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Wonderful man." She rested her nondominant hand on Draco's freshly healed cheek, "Thank you."

Draco rested his hand over her much smaller one, "You don't have to thank me," He pulled her hand away, "Weasel was out of line."

"Just say 'you're welcome.' You did something good." Hermione rested her hands on her hips, "Now take off your shirt, I need to heal your chest." Hermione rolled her eyes when Draco waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Purely for medical purposes of course."

"Of course." Draco nodded and pulled his sweater and T-shirt over his head in one movement. "Medical purposes."

He watched her intently as she swiped her wand over his chest, clearing scrapes and bruises as she went. Her face had a soft expression. Kind. She's the only person who has ever directed such care towards him. Perhaps his mother when he had been young, but once he turned five, Lucius had put a stop to that. _Malfoy men aren't coddled, Narcissa._ Lucius pulled his wife from their son's bedside _before_ she had read him his nightly story. _Happy birthday to him._

Hermione had never experienced neglect such as his. That, Draco was sure of. He had never met the Grangers, he'd probably seen them on the Platform once or twice, but he'd never given them a passing thought. They had always been on the periphery to the object of his attention: _bushy haired, buck toothed, mudblood Hermione Granger._

When he had heard she had obliviated them and sent them into hiding. It wasn't hard to guess the motive behind such an action. She was protecting her parents from people like _his parents_. The parents who had forced their son into adulthood too soon and, when their plans crashed to smithereens, left him to recoup what was left of the family's reputation and his soul.

He had realized his futile position during the war. He couldn't leave. He did have some _semblance_ of loyalty. To his parents. To everything he had ever been told. To her. But he sure as hell didn't want to win. If they won there would never be a shot at redemption. He took the cowardly way out, hiding in his rooms over break and at Hogwarts during the year. When a house elf requested his presence with the goal of identifying Potter and his friends he had almost pitched himself off his balcony. _Better dead that a traitor_ , ran through his mind as he forcibly removed himself from his private patio overlooking the gardens, where the elf had found him. He still wasn't sure who he would have betrayed had his father pushed him further that night.

The question in her eyes pulled him back in. She had obviously asked him a question, but he had no idea what it was. He asked her to repeat herself. "I - well, I asked if you had any bruises or scrapes, um." She ducked her eyes and her cheeks heated.

Draco suffocated the laugh threatening his lips and squashed the sarcastic retort. _Trying to get me naked again, Granger?_ "I'm fine." He spoke in short, measured words.

"Are you sure? Ron tends to flail his legs an-"

"Would you just stop?" He groaned. Her hands, which had been resting just above his knees, recoiled slightly. She begged his pardon. "You need to stop. Stop treating me like I'm a good person, like I'm worth two shits."

"Draco, where did this-"

"Hermione, I'm bad for you." He stared her in the eyes. "I'm - I'm nothing more than this." He flexed his left forearm, drawing her attention to his Mark.

He hung his head. He left his chin tucked when she asked him to look at her. When she craned her own neck to try and initiate the contact. He even kept his head down when she rested her small hand over half of the Mark. That's all her small hand could cover. Half.

"The war is over." She whispered, running her free hand through his silky locks, "You were acquitted. You're no more guilty than I am."

Draco snorted. "I'm the son of Lucius Malfoy. The sole heir to the Malfoy legacy. The nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange. Former Death Eater. I'm not innocent. No amount of absolution could make me innocent. I'm bad for you." He spoke to his knees, unable to look at the girl who had offered him such kindness.

Her retort died on her lips when the door swung opened reveal Ginny and Harry. "Lucy is asking for you, Hermione." She spoke slowly. Taking in the sight in front of her. Hermione standing between Draco's legs. Draco, half naked, looking the part of a young Greek god right there in Ginny's kitchen. She never would have guessed it. "She's scared. This one," She elbowed her fiancé sharply in the rib, "Forgot to cast a silencing spell around her room."

Hermione groaned. Stepping away from the blonde boy, she gave him a look which he still refused to return, "We will talk about this later." She followed Ginny from the room, leaving Draco alone with Potter. _Great._

"Better hop of the counter, Malfoy. Mrs. Weasley'll have a fit."

Draco slid from the counter and shrugged on his shirt. Unsure what to do now. "Told Hermione that."

To Draco's surprise, Harry let out a short laugh, "Merlin, Malfoy. She's got you wrapped around her finger already. It's been two months." _Seems like far longer._ When the other boy didn't respond, Harry continued, "What were you two talking about?"

"How I'm categorically bad for Hermione." He spoke sullenly, dejected.

"You can't blame her, Malfoy. You do have a _colorful_ past." Harry sighed, sitting on the bench beside the table.

" _I_ know that. _I'm_ the one trying to convince _her_ I'm no good." He ran his hand through his hair, "I thought she was supposed to be intelligent."

"Hermione likes herself a good fixer upper. Why do you think she stayed with Ron as long as she did?" Draco's blood boiled at the mention of the redhead's name.

"I'd be one hell of a project." Both boys had smirks playing on their lips, but Draco's died quickly, "She should _know_ I'm bad for her. That one way or another I'll hurt her."

Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable now, "You don't know that." Never in a million years did Harry anticipate defending a relationship between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Much less _to_ Draco Malfoy. But Hermione was happier than Harry had seen her in months. There was some meat back on her bones and a twinkle back in her eyes. The only difference in her life was the new presence of the blonde boy. Harry was finding it harder to hate Malfoy each time he saw rehabilitated-Hermione.

"I do know that, Potter. Worst case scenario, I destroy her just as the Weasel did. Are you going to put her back together? Take a leave from Quidditch? Put your life with Red on hold to nurse Granger back to health? From what I've seen of it, mending a broken heart is a full time job."

Harry tried to interrupt. _Hermione loves fiercely. It's the Gryffindor in her._ He would have said that, but the Slytherin kept talking, "Best case scenario isn't much better. The press will skewer her. _War Heroine Befriends Death Eater._ They'll question every action she's ever made. They'll question her loyalty to you. Her sanity. Her popularity will dwindle. She'll be targeted. Not just by the remainder of my side but a majority of yours. And what will she have to show for it? Me? I doubt _that's_ with being ostracized by the world you saved."

Harry had no reassuring response. They both knew Draco was right. "Don't hurt her Malfoy. Do whatever you have to but don't hurt her."

Draco's shoulder slumped imperceptibly. He crossed to the floo. "Potter, give the Weasleys my gratitude for their hospitality and pass along my apologies for causing a scene." With a burst of green flame he was gone.

All Harry could think was that _no one_ ran from Hermione. Not successfully at least.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione nearly jumped through the ceiling when Ginny appeared in front of her. It had only taken twenty minutes to calm Lucy back into a slumber. Apparently Ginny had waited.

"We need to talk." The younger girl guided her friend into a bedroom. Hermione assumed it was Percy's old room since Lucy was sleeping soundly in George's. "When did you fall in love with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione sputtered, feeling her cheeks growing hot, "I am not _in love_ with him. We are simply friends. It is possible for a man and a woman to be friends."

"Not the way I hear it. I got it out of Harry what happened after Slughorn's party. Don't be mad at him. I pried it out. Thought he was going to die of embarrassment."

 _Like I am right now_. Hermione muttered to herself, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, her bracelet clinking delicately. However quiet the sound might have been, Ginny heard it, her focus immediately fastened on the bracelet. Hermione froze, her arm still in the air.

"What is _this_?" Ginny snatched her wrist, eyes widening when she saw _eight_ gems. "Where'd you get this?"

Hermione tried to pull her hand back, but Ginny held firm. "Draco gave it to me for Christmas. He said it was his mother's idea."

"His mother suggested that he give you _that_? Do you know what it _is_?" Hermione shook her head. She assumed _a bracelet_ wasn't the right answer. "It's a old pureblood tradition. The bracelet uses an old charm, the same kind of magic seers channel, to create its charms. The charm is triggered when it closes around a woman's wrist."

"What does the charm do?" Hermione was fiddling with the bracelet, a nervous habit she had developed in the five days she had had the bracelet.

"It-" Ginny watched Hermione intently as she spoke her next few words, "It creates a gemstone for every child the woman will have. The gems are the birthstones."

Hermione's eyes widened and her attention focused on the bracelet in question. One...two...three...four...eight. There were eight. She knew that, but she found herself counting the stones over and over. Suddenly, they had a new meaning. They were her children. All eight of them. But it took two to tango. If Draco gave her the bracelet, did that mean-

Ginny had noted her friend's face drain of color and her fingers freeze as she stopped playing with the charms. Ginny smirked, preempting Hermione's question, "It doesn't mean Draco's the father. Well, it might. It depends on the family. I don't know how the Malfoy's do it." Hermione's stomach was rioting, flipping and turning. _Eight._ "Sometimes you can tell by the quality of the gem: the better quality ones are fathered by the man who gifted the bracelet." All of Hermione's were pristine, "But I doubt a Malfoy would wear anything less than the best so that might not work."

"Gin-" Hermione's voice cracked, "I can't - They can't be Draco's - They - We - We won't - We can't -"

"Slow down, Hermione," Ginny chuckled. In the back of Hermione's very busy brain, she found it in herself to be annoyed that her friend was getting such amusement out of her panic. "'Dromeda's coming tomorrow morning to pick up Teddy. She might know what the Malfoy traditions are."

 _Blue, blue blue. Green. White. Red. Orange orange._ Eight. _Bloody eight._ "Ginny." Hermione whispered, "I'm - I'm not worried about the paternity," She confessed. If she was going to have _that many_ children with a man, he must have _some_ redeeming quality, "I'm worried that there are _eight_. And triplets? Twins? Three blues in a row and two oranges. I can't do that! I can't be pregnant _that_ many times. _Eight?_ " Her volume had steadily increased. Thankfully, Ginny had had the foresight to cast a silencing spell on the walls and a locking charm on the door, "I can't have eight! Your mum didn't even have eight! I want to _do_ things with my life! _Eight_!"

"Hermione, calm down." Hermione most certainly did not calm down. She ranted and raved, pacing the floor. Ginny resigned herself to waiting, sitting on Percy's bed and watching her friend wear a path into the wood floor. For the most part, the pair was silent. Only Hermione's strangled voice occasionally broke the silence, muttering _Eight?_ or _Twins? Triplets?_ This was Ginny's first indication that Hermione wasn't thinking straight.

Nearly forty-five minutes passed in this fashion. Hermione pacing and Ginny watching. Eventually, Hermione collapsed onto the bed beside Ginny. Her legs hung off the side and her arms covered her face. "Gin," She removed the arm covering her eyes, "I can't have eight kids."

"My mum made it through seven. And that included Fred and George! They're each worth three." Ginny laid back beside her friend, "Plus, you wouldn't be alone! There would be a father!"

"What if they're one night stands!"

This was Ginny's second indication that Hermione wasn't thinking straight, "Bloody hell, Hermione, you are not the type to have one night stands! Much less _eight!_ " While Hermione ranted on the point of _her potentially wild twenties_ , Ginny did some quick math in her head, "There will be almost four years between the first and the last child, at least. Do you really think you're going to be spending your time sleeping around so casually for _four years_ that you'll have eight children on _flings_? Hermione, think logically!" She grumbled a bit more, "You can't change it. Unless you think the Malfoy's bought a faulty bracelet?" They both knew the Malfoys would not suffer less than the best, "You are going to have eight children." Hermione gulped. Even an hour later, she couldn't wrap her mind around the number. "All you can control is who will be helping you with them." Hermione's breathing was slowing, "The children will not be one night stands. You will find a lovely man and have children with him. The sex must be great for you to have eight kids." This finally cracked through Hermione's panic. A smile toyed with her lips, "Hermione, you're going to be a great mother. You always said you wanted a big family."

With a watery chuckle, Hermione finally spoke at a normal volume, "I meant four, maybe five children. Not eight!" She sighed, "Where am I going to put them all?"

"Good thing Malfoy has a big mansion all to himself." Ginny chuckled.

Hermione swatted the red head and let out a small smirk.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The family had reconvened in the den when Ginny and Hermione came down the stairs. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur were trying to convince Mrs. Weasley that she was not a failure as a mother. Percy passively listened to George and Angelina plot ways to deal with the "Purple Scare," their codename for Lavender, with Charlie occasionally contributing. Harry walked in from the kitchen, holding a box of Bertie Botts's. Hermione waited a breath, but when no one else came through the door, she descended the stairs, looking around the room.

There was a lot of red hair. A spot of black hair. The only blonde hair flowed from Fleur's scalp. She reached Harry just as he popped a red bean into his mouth, only to recoil in disgust. Hermione posed her question before Harry could recover, "Where's Draco?" Harry looked up with such a clueless expression that Hermione was reminded of Ron. "Draco. Draco Malfoy. Blonde. Slytherin. About yay tall." She held her hand far above her, indicating Draco's approximate height, more than a full head above her. "Where's Draco?"

"I know who _Draco_ is, Hermione," He rolled his eyes, "I just can't get used to you calling him that."

"Well where is he?" Hermione was getting impatient, still craning her neck to try and find him hidden behind a couch.

"He left." Harry said matter-of-factly.

"He what? When? Where did he go?"

"A hour or so ago. Went through the floo. Didn't say anything. Maybe he said home." Hermione grumbled. _How had this boy survived a year on the run? So unobservent._

She turned on her heel and climbed back to Percy's room. There had been a fireplace in his room. With a dash of floo powder, Hermione stole her nerves and plunged her head through the green flames, whispering her destination as she went.

She didn't recognize the room. Then again, why should she, she had only been there once in her life. Tall, white marble pillars and a matching floor. The walls were a light blue. A couch and two loveseats were clustered around a dark blue rug, facing the fireplace. If Hermione focused on the pillars and darkened the features of the room, she would swear it was the drawing room where she had been tortured.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione yelled for Draco. Nothing. It was a big house though. A _manor_. He probably couldn't hear her. She tried again. She heard a pop and the slapping of feet against marble. Expecting Draco, Hermione was surprised when a small elf appeared, clad in a bright pink dress and matching earmuffs.

"Oh! Oh Miss!" The elf squeaked, "My Master is not being at home now, Miss. Ritty is sorry, Miss. Ritty tells Master of Miss's call when Master returns."

"But Ritty," the elf squeaked when Hermione used her name, "Draco was just with me. He left after he got into a fight. I'm worried for him." House elves are naturally pale, but Hermione saw Ritty lighten a few shades, "Please, just find him, Ritty."

"Oh. Oh. Ritty isn't supposed to disturb Master unless called. Master won't like that. Master Lucius never like to be disturbed." The elf wrung her hands.

"Please, Ritty, I'm very, very worried about him." The elf fretted for a moment more before she snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Hermione, unsure whether she had been dismissed or if the elf had accepted her request, remained in the fire, worrying her lip. Before Hermione could do too much damage to her lip, Ritty reappeared, nervously wringing her hands.

"Oh Miss, Master Draco asked Ritty to redirect Miss's call." Without further ado, Hermione was once again hurtling through the floo network.

Hermione blinked. And then blinked again. But nothing came into focus. All she saw was varying shades of white. If she squinted, that blob might have been a couch, and that one a coffee table. Just as she was about to pull herself from the fire, Draco stepped into view, settling himself on the maybe-couch. He held a drink in his hand and had changed into a pair of dark jeans and an equally dark button down. He stood out in sharp contrast to the room. He looked down his nose at her, the cool, Malfoy mask firmly in place. "Granger," he greeted with a nod and a deep swig of his drink.

"Back to Granger, now, are we?" If Hermione had been standing she would have put her hands on her hips, "Well, then, _Malfoy_ , get your skinny little arse through this floo! You will not be spending New Year's alone!"

"Who said I was alone, Granger?" A smirk slid seamlessly onto his features. She fixed him a stern look and he revised his statement, "Who said I didn't want to be alone, Granger."

She switched tact: "Then don't make _me_ be alone."

"You have the Weasleys."

"But I want you, Draco." The hardness in her eyes slipped away, she needed him to come back with her, "Please?"

Draco groaned and threw back the rest of his drink. Grimacing, whether at her words or at the drink, Hermione was unsure. "You'll be the death of me, woman." He slouched in his maybe-seat, "Granger, I can't."

"And why not?" Her foot would be tapping impatiently by now.

"Because," And Draco launched into a full recount of his and Harry's conversation.

"You stupid, arrogant, misogynistic twit!" Hermione scolded when he had finished, "I am Hermione Granger. I fought beside Harry Potter in the Second Wizarding World. I killed a horcrux made by the darkest wizard known to man. I fought and I killed. And _I survived_. And you think some _bad press_ is going to do me in? Draco, I know you have an inflated sense of self, but _mine_ , my inflated ego, is _entirely_ and _completely_ justified. Not only is it not your decision to make for me, but it's unnecessary. The only way you'll hurt me is if you keep being a twit like you are right now. Now march yourself through this floo so we can have a happy new year!" He stared at her in shock, "Do not make me count to three!"

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"What's wrong?" Harry's voice was garbled by a mouthful of beans. Ginny shook her head. She was too deep in thought to dignify her fiancé with a response. Harry scrutinized her for a minute more, but when it became clear Ginny would not speak, he turned back to a very agitated Crookshanks.

Ginny had meant every word she had said to Hermione. Every single word had been the truth. But Ginny hadn't spoken of her suspicions. Grandma Weasley, when she was alive, used to tell Ginny stories. She would remind Ginny that despite being a disowned branch, they were still a part of the The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and that, despite the family's recent turn, was something to be proud of.

"No Black Woman lets her husband forget who she is. Always remember that." Grandma would wag her finger and launch into stories of elaborate Black family traditions. Ginny had always thought that to be the old woman running her mouth and reliving her glory days. That is, until she saw Hermione's bracelet. The silversmithing of Hermione's bracelet was remarkably similar to that of a necklace Grandma Weasley had passed down to Ginny. Ginny hardly wore it - a silver necklace with a broom charm seemed childish to her. But that was beside the point.

Hermione received her bracelet from Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy suggested the bracelet to her son, according to Hermione. Mrs. Malfoy was also born a Black. And no Black Woman let's her husband forget who she is. Narcissa Malfoy was a Black Woman, a non-excommunicated one at that. There was a niggling in the back of her mind that she couldn't shake: that Lucius Malfoy did not have as much control over his family as the world thought he did. His son's recent actions were case and point.

"Sit." Hermione's directive pulled Ginny from her thoughts. The red head blinked a couple times to clear the glaze from her eyes.

Draco Malfoy was back and, with a dramatic sigh, he sat at the opposite end of Ginny's couch. Hermione scooted into the small spot between her friend and her - Malfoy. Ginny's brows wrinkled. Hermione's Malfoy. Nondescriptive, but accurate.

Harry, who sat on Ginny's other side, was leaning back in his seat to look at Malfoy around the girls. Malfoy sat with his head thrown back onto the back of the couch, his eyes closed, looking up at the ceiling. "Thought you got away." Draco could hear the gloating tone to Harry's comment.

"Don't know how you put up with her for seven years, Potter," Draco exhaled, "She practically threatened to put me in time out the bloody harp - ouch!" He sat up abruptly, his arms jerking to his stomach, "Bloody hell, woman! What was that for!" Hermione only _harumphed_ in return.

Angelina, George and Charlie stood in the back corner of the room, watching the same show as Ginny. They watched as the edge to Malfoy's glare softened, only noticeable if he was being scrutinized - which he was. His smirk pulled up, but without its typically accompanying sneer. He slouched a tad into the couch, resting one arm on the couch's arm and the other on its back. Hermione, for her part, slouched as well, her back against Malfoy's side, tucked safely under his wing. Malfoy watched the fire. Hermione played with her bracelet while chatting quietly with Ginny, who did her best to observe without being noticed. Harry just chomped away at his candies.

"Boys?" Angelina spoke softly and slowly, as if worried of spooking a wide animal, "Do you see what I see?"

"I think we'd better get used to seeing a Malfoy around these parts." George sighed in mock defeat.

"Oh! 30 seconds!" Molly Weasley announced from her spot in the corner. With a gentle swish of his wand, Arthur conjured a gleaming number thirty to hover in the middle of the room. As the clock ticked, the number shrank.

 _30...29...28…_ Hermione chanced a glance at Draco out of the corner of her eye. He was watching the numbers intently.

 _20...19...18…_ Bill pulled a pregnant Fleur into his lap. Charlie teased Percy that they would have to be each other's midnight kiss.

 _10...9...8…_ George pulled Angelina into his arms, knocking her off balance. The woman complained, swatting at his chest. The man promised to make it up to her. Harry tucked Ginny into the crux of his arm. His fiancé snuggled closer, paying no mind to the panicked looks her best friend kept shooting at her blonde partner.

3...2...1… "Happy New Year!" The Room erupted. Arthur a gave Molly a kiss on the check which, no matter how chaste, made the woman blush a red to match her hair. Bill cradled Fleur's face between his hands and the couple kissed to their last new year without a child. George and Angelina were indecent, falling into a chair when their legs got tangled. Percy blushed, Charlie whooped, and Draco smirked. Harry and Ginny shared a soft kiss that would not land Harry in hot water with his fiancé's brothers. Draco did nothing, only kept smirking at George and Angelina's display.

With all of her Gryffindor courage, Hermione stretched her spine and puckered her lips to place them against the bottom of Draco's jaw, right below his ear. Due to her position, Hermione did not see the widening of Draco's eyes as they shot from one Weasley coupling to the next. She sighed at his lack of response and lowered herself back to her original spot. Draco, still panicked by his audience, noticed the witch's shift in both position and mood. His jaw burned, how could he be so aware that her lips had left his skin. With a slight tilt of his neck, he pressed his lips to her temple. He whispered against her skin, "Happy New Year, Hermione."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

They stayed up late, as teenagers were bound to do. For just a few hours, that was all that they were: teenagers. The boy with the lightning scar sat at the foot of the fire, his back against a couch and his legs spread open to accommodate his fiance. The boy with the ugly tattoo sat on the other couch, a pretty brunette that did not belong with him in any manner curled into his side, a book clutched in her hands.

Her blinks grew slower as the clock ticked towards two. She turned fewer and fewer pages. Draco leaned forward to look at her face. Her eyelashes were now kissing her cheeks more often than not. He jostled her just a bit, enough to startle her from sleep. Hermione grimaced at him and he smirked.

"How many?" Harry asked, continuing their conversation.

"Three." Ginny stated without looking away from the fire.

"Only three?" Harry was skeptical. He had been expecting a far larger number.

"Does that disappoint you?" She tilted her chin to the sky to search Harry's face.

"Not at all. I just expected you to want a larger family, like yours growing up."

"I don't have the strength to do what my mother did." _Like Hermione is going to do._

Their conversation was interrupted by the other couple's bickering. "I do not need to go to sleep. Wide awake! See?"

"Let's go. Up you get." Draco stood and pulled Hermione with him, "We'll be off to bed. Red, see you bright and early." Ginny groaned.

As Hermione and Draco began climbing the stairs, she asked, "You'll see her bright and early?"

"We're training together."

They climbed the uneven stairs together, stopping on the landing between George's and Percy's rooms. Hermione was supposed to stay in the former, with Lucy, and Draco in the latter, alone.

"So…" Hermione hedged, unwilling to part from her companion, "You're training with Ginny tomorrow." Draco nodded, "But you're still coming with us to Diagon Alley at eleven?" He nodded again, "And..um…" she was out of topics.

"Hermione, if you're going to fight me on this whole me being bad for you thing, I'm not going to let you accidentally fall into my room again. Drop the pretense, Hermione. Do you want to come in?" After a stunned pause, she nodded, "And do you want to stay the night?" A longer pause this time, but she still nodded. She missed the dark smell of Draco when she slept in her own bed.

Draco opened the door and let her pass. He followed her into the room, closing the door behind him. He set about getting ready for bed. Kicking off his shoes. Unfastening his watch. He hadn't noticed that Hermione was still standing just inside the door until she spoke, "Am I intruding? I know I'm a burden but I thought - "

He crossed the room in two quick strides. Pressing his frame against hers and holding her face in both his hands. Gentle but firm. She had no choice but to look into his stormy eyes.

"Stop calling yourself that. You are not a burden, Hermione." His thumbs stroked her cheeks, seemingly without a thought.

"Then why did you make it seem like you didn't want me - "

"I don't not want you here - "

"You just don't want me - "

"No, Hermione, I'm not playing word games." He had had too little sleep to be toying with language, "I would love to have you here. But I want it to be _your choice._ An active choice. Not something you just fall into." It was too poor of a choice for her to decide accidentally.

Hermione relaxed, her head lolling to the side to rest against his hand. "Now that that's settled." She smirked and her eyes twinkled, "I'm going to bed. Try not to jostle too much when you join."

"Did you just -"

"Make you admit you wanted to spend the night with me like you did? Never! I'm just looking out for you. It's too big of a decision for you to _just fall into._ "

That snake! His lioness tricked him into admitting to - admitting to things. But he wasn't angry. A little annoyed that she was using what he had inadvertently taught her against him. But never mad. Not at his lioness. He slid off his pants and sweater and into the bed beside Hermione.

They didn't touch. They never touched, at least not until they fell into unconsciousness. He kept a foot or so of space between the two in the double bed, just close enough that he could smell the cinnamon of her hair, but not be tempted to close the gap. At least not too tempted. His breathing slowed and his eyes fluttered. But the bed shifted, pulling him from the precipice of sleep.

Draco begrudgingly opened his eyes. His annoyance was only assuaged when he met Hermione's curious brown gaze. Even in the dark he could see that he was in for an inquisition. The same glint was in her eye that she got in N.E.W.T. Arithmancy.

"Scavenger Hunt, huh?" Her brow arched. He groaned, flipping onto his stomach to bury his face in the pillow. "Draco," she sat up and shook him a bit, "I'm kidding! I know you were just trying to get under his skin." Draco peaked up at her with one eye. "What I do want to know," She was back to hedging, "What makes up your versatile skill set?"


	16. Chapter 16

_Draco peaked up at her with one eye. "What I do want to know," She was back to hedging, "What makes up your versatile skill set?"_

He felt the air leave the room. His one open eye was frozen open, although he wanted desperately to close it and pretend he had never heard her first comment. He had never intended for her to hear that threat. Never. That was an issue he'd rather not discuss. Particularly not after such a long day. In bed. At the Weasley's.

"Draco?" Her tone teetered between worried and inquisitive. He was desperate to know on which she would land. "Draco, answer me."

 _She couldn't be that mad,_ he figured, _she's still in bed._ Draco took a shallow breath and turned onto his back, opening his other eye as he went. He focused on the ceiling, tracing its many cracks and divots, "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth." She huffed as if any other answer would have been completely and utterly ridiculous.

"I'm a Death Eater, Hermione. What skills do you think I meant?" He ignored her interjected _was_. "None of them are nice and all of them are reasons you should not have followed me through that door. All of them are reasons you should throw me out on my arse and never look my way again. Better yet, have me locked up in Azkaban. You're chummy with the minister, are you not?" The acidity of pre-pubescent Draco was oozing into his voice.

"The more you evade the worse I assume." She was sitting cross-legged now, facing him, enunciating each syllable despite her sing-song tone. He would have noticed her shift had he not been deeply focused on counting the swirls in the night stand's unpainted wood. Had he noticed, he would not have liked her looking down at him.

"What do you expect?" He shot up from his position and _wham_ they knocked foreheads with such force that Hermione went backwards into a lying form. " _Shit._ " He ignored the throbbing in his own skull to lightly graze his fingers over her temples, letting his magic seep from his fingers and through her head. "Better?"

"Loads." She let her eyes flutter back open, coming eye-to-eye with Draco, who in his haste to heal her had dramatically invaded her personal space. He quickly realized his mistake and moved to correct it, but Hermione stopped him with a single hand fisted in his undershirt, "Tell me, Draco. They can't be all bad. We don't learn healing at school."

Draco stole himself, sealing his eyes and face from any outward expression of emotion. "Hermione. Despite recent attempts to repent for my previous actions, I am the son of Lucius Malfoy and the nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange, a monster. I have told you time and time again that I was no good for you and that I would only manage to hurt you. I don't deserve you or your kindness, the Weasleys' hospitality, none of it. You of all people should know that. I was horrible as a prepubescent boy, so now, as a bonafide Death Eater, what do you think that skillset entails?" Her eyes had grown similarly stoney through his tirade, but he could still see the gears turning in her busy mind.

She finally broke the silence, "Have you raped anyone?" Draco responded with a recoil and a disgusted _no_ , "Tortured?" At his hesitance, "For your own amusement or by your own desire?" Again, a _no_ , "Killed unless absolutely necessary?" When asked, she defined her adjective, "It was your live or theirs." He shook his head. "Then I suppose we're at the same level of monstrosity." She shrugged.

Draco blinked at her. Stunned. "Draco," she continued, "I have killed, not always in the cleanest of manners, to survive. Say what you will about the killing curse, but, according to ghosts, it is quick and painless. A stupify off the side of a castle or into a body of water, a coaxed dragon's flame, or a reflected dark curse, I am directly responsible for the death of at least a dozen people. Not counting the people that tried to protect me or that fought in my name. Fighting for good does not mean I never succumbed to darkness, Draco. I'm not that perfect Gryffindor princess everyone pictures. That's not me."

She was on a roll now. Her fist was clutching so tightly at Draco's shirt that her knuckles were turning white, "Ronald always tried to place me on that pedestal, the pedestal of the pristine war heroine that fought with her brains rather than her brawn, who survived the war and saved millions like her. I could never live up to that, Draco, because that's not who I am. I haven't been that girl since… since… " She struggled to define a turning point.

"Since my father and aunt tried to kill you back in fifth year." Draco offered, barely above a whisper, a sharp departure from her raised voice.

"Since your father and aunt tried to kill me back in fifth year." Hermione confirmed, her volume back to that appropriate for such a late hour. "I realized then that it was wound or be wounded, kill or be killed. Sometime during that battle I realized that the meek could never win a war, not against combatants who did not abide by the rules of engagement.

"You've tortured and you've killed, but never in surplus, never more than necessary to protect yourself. How is that different from what I've done?"

He had rehearsed the answer a hundred times and had it narrowed down to half a dozen words, "Because you're good and I'm bad."

"Because I was born to muggle parents and you were born to pure-blooded aristocrats, already embedded in Voldemort's inner circle. Neither of us had a choice in our sides. We can only be judged by what we made of the hand we were dealt." He was looking anywhere but at her, which, considering their persistent proximity, was quite the feat. Out of the flat silence, Hermione spoke, "I don't regret a single one of my kills." His eyes snapped to hers, "Not one. They were all bad people who would have gone on to kill scores of people."

"I was always at wand-point myself when I acted. Either Bella was breathing down my back or my mother was in clear and present danger." He drew in a shuddering breath, unsure of when he had stopped breathing, "I regret that their lives had to end, but if I didn't kill my victims, another Death Eater would have." His focus darted between her eyes, too close to focus on her full face. "Towards the end, _Avada Kedavra_ was declared uninventive. Prizes went to those who could kill in the most horrific way. Bella won time and time again."

"Draco," Hermione cooed, stroking her free hand through his hair, "You spared them all terrible deaths. In your own way, in the capacity available to you, you did good." She adjusted her knees, allowing him to settle between them, "Draco, there is light and dark inside both of us. We both used darkness to do some good. What more could be expected of teenagers?"

"I should have done more. I should have ran. I could've..."

"Could've done what, Draco?" A fire was kindling inside Hermione. She would _not_ have him blaming himself for sins forced on him by his father. "What could you have done?" He provided the same, nondescript answer, "Your family, on both sides, as far as I know, had believed in blood supremacy for hundreds of years, but you had a choice?"

''Sirius came from my family! Andromeda did. She managed. And, what was her name, Nymphadora! She's my cousin! I could have done _something!_ "

"Draco, if you're so insistent that you should have and could have, what would you have done? What would the action have been to free you from centuries of history? Sirius was brash, he acted before thinking. Andromeda was a second daughter, not a sole male heir. And Tonks never knew a life in the Black family the way you did. So rather than comparing yourself to them, tell me, realistically, what would you, Draco Malfoy at age sixteen, have done to free yourself of the only life you had ever known?"

"I don't know!" He flew back into an upright position on his knees, no longer leaning over her, "So-"

She followed him into a sitting position. Keeping the same distance between the two. "Don't you dare say 'something,' Draco, if it's so clear you could have and should have done something differently then what? What specifically?"

His eyes were crazed. His own hands knotted aggressively into his hair. Hermione worried that he would rip the fine strands from their roots. His eyes darted between her two, seemingly unable to focus as one did in a normal situation. His mind was racing a million miles a minute.

And then it wasn't.

It grinded to a halt. His slumped. His bottom rested on his heels. His hands released their grip and dropped to his sides. His eyes grew unfocused and gazed somewhere behind her shoulder.

"The Order would never have taken me. Not after I had called you 'mudblood' so many times. Not after my father aided in opening the Chamber of Secrets. Or after my father and aunt tried to kill you and your friends. Snape did, but he had information to offer. I - I didn't. I had nothing to trade. I had a dark mark and tried to kill Dumbledore. I provided the entrance for the Death Eaters to come kill all my sleeping classmates." He paused.

"Not to mention, once I realized how awful it was, I had no way to back out. No way to flee. I would not have put you in danger by making you responsible for me. The dark mark he could track our location with it. He knew where I was every second of every day. I would have endangered you. I couldn't do that. I couldn't put you in danger."

"You did the best you could. It was a terrible situation." His chin tucked to his chest. She heard him mutter something, "What was that?"

"I don't deserve you." He looked up at her through his eye lashes.

"Don't say that." She threw her arms around his crumpled form, "You had a terrible go at it. So," She tucked her head to meet his eyes, "Let's focus on redemption rather than on self pity."

She coaxed him into a lying position, spreading his right arm just far enough from his body to tuck herself into the crux of his side. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and her hand in the center of his chest. For a moment, he was unresponsive, but shortly, he allowed his right arm to curl around her back and his left hand to rest on her hip, pulling her, ever so slightly with the added weight, further into his body.

"What can I ever do to make up for how awful I was to you?" He whispered into her hairline.

Hermione reached her hand across his torso to rest on his forearm, doing her best to cover the ugly tattoo. She hated seeing it so stark against his pale skin.

She thought about Ron leaving her stranded. About Harry off jetting from city to city, taking the quidditch world by storm. About Ginny, planning her upcoming nuptials and designing Grimmauld Place's impending upgrade. About the Weasley's torn in their loyalties between their son and brother and their nearly a second daughter and sister.

"Just be here." That was all she needed.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco's hand immediately closed around his wand when he was abruptly roused from sleep. His other arm tightened around Hermione's still sleeping-form. Within a blink, he had taken in his surroundings and realized the offending noise had only been a forceful knock at the door. Using great care, Draco untangled himself from Hermione and crossed the room silently.

He eased open the door, using his body to shield the room from view.

"There you are! What happened to five o' clock?" Red scolded him.

Draco shushed her and stepped into the staircase with her, closing the door behind him. "Sorry, I overslept." And he realized that it was true. The sun had only beaten him for a handful of times in the last few years.

"Well I can see that!" She huffed, bracing her hands on her hips and flipping her long plait behind her shoulders."You have five minutes before I go alone. I have to get back to see Andy when she picks up Teddy." Noticing Draco's blank expression, Ginny clarified, "Andromeda. We've taken to calling her 'Andy' since that'll be easier for Bill and Fleur's child and any other young ones around _Auntie Andy_."

"My mother always called her ''Dromeda.'" Draco said quietly.

"I didn't realize that your-"

"My mother adored her older sisters." His voice had adopted its hard, mask-like tone.

"She'd love to meet you." Ginny offered, looking up at the boy through her lashes. He nodded, not making a commitment, but instead, shifting to re-enter his borrowed room. "It was her idea to invite you along for the holiday." Ginny's eyes gained a playful glint to them, "And don't think I didn't see a certain bookworm all snug in your bed." With that, Ginny scurried back down the stairs, shouting back "Four minutes!"

Draco stood alone on that ramshackle stair landing and grunted. He slipped back into his borrowed room, only making it so far as to lean against the door. Hermione had slept through the night with little more than a snore and a twitch, but now she wrinkled her nose and muttered to herself.

With a sharp gasp, Hermione's eyes flew open and she jolted upright in bed, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her eyes darted around wildly. Only on their second pass did she notice Draco. Her breathing slowed and her eyes stopped dancing. She loosened her grip on the blanket and ran her hand through her hair.

"Bad dream?" Draco whispered.

"I- " He brow wrinkled, "Maybe. I don't really remember. I always remember..." She huffed and shook her head, "Where are you off to?" He was rifling through his overnight bag.

"Run with Ginny." Draco grumbled, picking crust from the corner of his eye,

"Does she know I spent the night in here?" Hermione asked, playing with the knotted ends of her hair.

"Would it be a problem if she did?" He had found his shorts and a top.

"No." Hermione yanked at her hair, trying, and failing, to fix her hair. "I was just curious what kind of inquisition I'd be facing over breakfast."

Draco chucked. He swished his wand once to change his clothing and a second time to unknot her hair and weave her hair into a simply-elegant braid. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"So she doesn't know?"

Draco chuckled, crossing the room to plant a small kiss on her forehead. Just before leaving the room, he threw an "I didn't say _that_?" over his shoulder.

He was halfway down the last flight of stairs when he realized what he had done. He had kissed Hermione Granger and thought nothing of it.


	17. Chapter 17

"Andy, dear," Molly Weasley sat across from her friend at her kitchen table. Both women clutched at their teas, but only Andromeda Tonks was glancing anxiously, albeit subtly, at the door that led to the yard. "I'm sure they'll be back soon. The four of them were up late last night so they couldn't have gone far."

"I don't doubt that, Molly." Andromeda added a touch more milk to her tea, "But Teddy has been raving about him nonstop and I've never met the boy."

"Harry and Ginny have both taken rather nicely to him. And he and Hermione are nearly attached at the hip. I'm sure you remember all the drama Ronald caused at Halloween. Evidently it was Draco who cleaned up the mess! What a surprise that was!"

"Yes, yes, I've heard all that, but I've also heard he's the spitting image of his father and Lucius was-"

"An absolutely horrid man who deserves to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his day." Molly turned in her seat to see Draco leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed in front of him with his fingers drumming on his forearm. Ginny, covered head to toe in mud, walked past him with a grunt, passed through the kitchen, and stalked upstairs.

Gone was the boy who had gently cradled Teddy and Lucy while Hermione stroked his hair. Despite his casual stance, his eyes were stone-cold steel. He _was_ the carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy. Only with shorter hair. And he was casually leaning against the crooked door frame of the burrow.

Molly turned back to her friend and for the first time she saw, really saw, the resemblance between Andromeda and her older sister. The resemblance beyond that of the hair and build, but rather that which lurks in the eyes, in a cold, hard, calculating glint. The same glint that currently possessed her nephew's eyes as well.

For what felt like eternity, Molly flicked her gaze back and forth between the two, feeling quite like she was at a tennis match.

It was Andromeda who finally broke the tense stand-off, "Well, they were wrong about you," Draco lifted a single eyebrow at her, "While you do look like your father, I'd say you still bear a rather notable resemblance to your mother."

"How do you figure?" Draco had rarely heard of any of his features looking like Narcissa.

Andromeda pursed her lips, "I'm not sure. Perhaps it's in the cheekbones or the shape of your face. Maybe it's simply that you managed two minutes without barking orders or spewing hateful vitriol." Both Andromeda and Draco had allowed their poses to relax ever so slightly and for small smirks to drag a corner of their lip upward. "But there is something distinctly different between you and Lucius. Something from Narcissa."

Draco decided to let that comment hang. For what was the proper response? _Thank you, I do try not to resemble my murderous father. So glad you noticed._ Rather he sat at the kitchen table, at the far end from the women. Far enough that there would be no bumping elbows and time for an escape if the need presented itself, but close enough that there was no need to shout.

Refusing to enter into another tense silence, Molly broached conversation, "Draco, I have yet to see head or tail of Hermione this morning. Usually she's up by the crack of dawn. She's alright I trust?"

Draco shifted imperceptibly in his chair and he thought he saw a flash pass through Andromeda's eyes as a result. "Yes. She's been sleeping better recently. Although," he glanced at the clock, shocked to find it showed not the time but the location of family members, "well, I _think_ she'll be up soon."

Molly nodded. She had checked on both Teddy and Lucy when she woke up early this morning, but never saw Hermione even though the girl's things were situated in Lucy's room. With the current sleeping arrangements, only Ronald's room was unoccupied. Doubting that Hermione would retreat to the attic room, Molly climbed the many staircases to check. There was no bushy hair strewn across the pillow nor sign of baggage. When Ginny had awoken for her morning run with Draco and conveyed that, _no_ , Hermione hadn't spent the night in _her_ room, Molly knew there was only one place the brunette would have spent the night.

"What is your interest in Hermione?" Andromeda leveled her nephew with a severe look, "I grew awfully close to the woman over the summer and would hate to see her hurt."

"We're friends." Draco said with a shrug, his eyes never leaving his aunt's.

Andromeda _snorted_ , surprising Draco with her lack of decorum. _Mother's sister does not snort. "_ You don't really believe that, do you Draco? I doubt the girl would spend the night in your bed if you were just _friends_."

Molly excused herself to the little ones and scurried from the room. Although she had suspected that Hermione had spent the night with Draco, to hear her suspicions confirmed was another matter.

"I didn't force her into my bed if that's what you're implying."

"Not at all. But her sleeping arrangements coupled with that bracelet Molly has been raving about, unless there's another pureblood from an old lineage whom she's cozied up to, one can't help but wonder."

"Well do try. It's none of your business, Aunt Andromeda." The woman lifted an eyebrow at the boy, "I've forced her into nothing and so long as that is the case you have no cause to _wonder_."

Andromeda scrutinized the boy who was breathing heavier than normal in wake of his small outburst, "Good." Andromeda nodded, "But judging by that bracelet, you'll be quite busy."

"That is a possibility."

"Denial is not a good look on you, Draco, dear." Andromeda finished her tea, "Now I suggest you prepare yourself."

"For-"

"GAMMA!" Teddy toddled into the room with surprising speed, Lucy hot on his heels. Hermione slowly followed the pair. Draco couldn't help but notice she still had the green and silver ribbons in her hair from when he had magically braided it earlier that morning. The pair made eye contact and she blushed before looking away. They slept together multiple times, but only this morning had Draco crossed a line.

Draco stood up, ruffling Teddy's hair and giving a light tug on one of Lucy's braids. He turned to exit the room, needing a shower before the shopping excursion Lucy had tricked him into attending, when he noticed Hermione had replaced her sweater from last night - what she had slept in - with one of his quidditch shirts, the one with the thick silver and green stripes and with his last name plastered across the back. She wordlessly turned to lead him up the stairs - she had to get ready, too - and he felt a bloom of pride at the sight of the slightly-faded letters. His name couldn't be so tragic if Hermione willingly wore it across her back.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco was surprised his room had a connecting bathroom. The burrow didn't seem like the place for en suites. He pulled his running shirt over his head and turned to close the door, but Hermione slipped in before he could. Still wearing Slytherin green and his wretched name.

He did not look her in the eye as she stepped closer to him, but that didn't matter for she wasn't looking at him either. Her small hand lifted to rest on his shoulder, seemingly of its own accord. She traced a path diagonally across his chest to just below his ribs and then switch directions to his other hip.

He fought the shiver forming at the base of his spine. "Snape was good, but that spell, whatever it was left its mark."

"It was one of Snape's. Same one that took off George's ear. Harry had his old potions book that year and it was written in the margins. He didn't know what it would do."

"I knew Potter was cheating at potions. He was always shit and then he becomes top of the class? No other reason." Her hand still rested just above the waistband of his shorts. "Imagine what I could've done with that lucky potion." Draco missed.

"Maybe you would've gotten me into bed sooner." They both blinked at each other, at loss for words after Hermione saying such an un-Hermione-like comment. "But I guess you wouldn't have wanted me in you bed back then since I had dirty blood and all."

"Believe me, Granger, had you knocked on the common room door dressed as you are now after fourth year the blokes would be lining up to debauch their precious pure blood."

"Why after fourth year?" They were whispering now. Her breath danced across his nipples.

"You got hot fourth year."

"You think I'm _hot_?" Hermione had accepted that she was pretty, in an unconventional manner. Not the type of pretty that turned heads, but the typed that takes a few years to grow to appreciate.

Draco leaned down to deliberately whisper in her ear, "I thought we covered that the night of Slughorn's party?" He crossed to the bathroom, determined not to go any further before getting what was likely pig dung off his shins.

"Draco," Hermione called just before he could latch the door shut, "would you have been in that line of blokes?"

"I'd have been right in the front."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Ginny waited by the fireplace, coaxing first Lucy and then Harry through the green flames, assuring them that she would follow shortly. Before Harry left, Ginny reminded him to keep track of Lucy lest Hermione and Draco - who had left just prior - lose her in their 'love-stricken outing' as Ginny, only half jokingly put it to Harry who could only blanch and stumble through the fireplace. Taking a deep breathe, Ginny turned to face her mother and Andromeda.

The two older women were sipping tea and doting over Teddy. The little boy sat on the bench giggling happily at his grandmother and adopted aunt. Ginny met her mother's questioning eyes and, taking her daughter's cue, Molly scooped up the child, vowing to put him down for his mid-afternoon nap.

"Andromeda, have you noticed -" Ginny began settling herself into her mother's vacated seat.

Andromeda interrupted the younger woman, "I _have_ noticed Hermione's bracelet. And although I'm sure you're very curious, Ginny, it is between my nephew and her."

"But, Andy, she didn't even know what the bracelet meant." Ginny plead, "Just tell me, is it a Malfoy bracelet or a Black bracelet?"

"If that boy could change his last name and leave that manor behind him he would in a heartbeat. I don't think it's a secret which side of the family that bracelet came from."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully, "Why can't he do that? Leave the manor and change his name?"

"Old magic keeps him at the manor, the male heir must live on the family property. From what I've heard he's refurbished it to the best of his abilities. But he could never change his family name as far as the public is concerned; no name change would erase the memory of the crimes the name Malfoy has committed."

Malfoy's allegiance was to the Black family, but old magic kept him bound to the Malfoy family. Was it so obvious from which side they bracelet came?

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Harry trailed after the group of three. Despite Ginny's warning, Harry had been confident watching Lucy would be the least of his worries. He had seen Malfoy and Hermione with Lucy at Christmas, there was little doubt in his mind that Lucy would be well-tended. For once, Harry was unquestionably correct.

Lucy frolicked around the pair, skipping from storefront to storefront and reveling in the freshly-restored life of Diagon Alley. Hermione worried aloud that the girl would trip or otherwise hurt herself. Draco, meanwhile, kept his head ducked and walked in step with Hermione. Harry trailed slightly behind the pair, waiting for Ginny to join them.

His prayers were answered by the time they passed the newly-restored Olivander's when a smaller hand slipped into his. Resting her other hand on the inside of his elbow, Ginny placed a soft kiss on Harry's cheek. "Everyone behaved?"

"Gin," Harry quieted his voice, "I feel like I'm stalking a young family as they do their errands. It's so weird."

Ginny gave her fiancé's arm a tight squeeze, "What's so weird about it? You supported her and Ron getting married before - well you know."

"I guess I've just never seen Hermione so…" Harry struggled to find the right words.

Ginny interjected, "She's content. Content to just _be_ here. She isn't rambling on like she used to with Ron." Ginny smirked up at her fiancée. "You know, you and I probably look like that to an outsider when we're with Teddy. And we don't talk much either."

"Are you suggesting they're just like us? That they're going to get married?" His eyebrows threatened to disappear into his shaggy hair. She had to make sure he got a haircut before going into his spring season.

"I wasn't but would you be surprised?"

"Gin they're not even dating, this time last year his family was trying to kill us, and she was so opposed to marrying Ron because of her age, that hasn't changed." He chuckled. That's how ridiculous he thought it was.

Ginny chanced a glance at the couple in question. Hermione was trying to coax Lucy away from the pet store because _no_ she _did not need_ a _fire breathing owl_ , the latest in cross-species experimentation. Draco was standing a few places back from them, watching the scene, but there was no smirk on his face. Instead his head was quirked, exposing his right ear to Ginny and her husband-to-be, and his brow was crinkled in concentration. Her response had an audience. She wondered how long he had been listening.

"He is not his parents, Harry, didn't you say that your brief stay at Malfoy Manor would've been much longer if he was?" Harry grumbled something to the effect of _not longer, but definitely less pleasant_. "And I'm rather certain she objected to Ron less because of her age but because she was afraid her life would be over. No more schooling, no career, just Ron and babies." The set of Harry's nose and brow made it clear that although he had not considered it, he knew it to be true: Ron expected his wife to be nothing more than a wife and mother, Hermione expected herself to be so much more. "Not to mention, have you seen her bracelet?" She had to explain the band's meaning, chuckling to herself that somehow _she_ had become the expert on all things pureblooded and Draco Malfoy.

" _Eight?_ " Harry choked on the very word, " _They're_ going to have _eight_ kids?" Harry sputtered and rambled, but Ginny didn't give him the time of day. Instead she watched the blonde man in front of her. Had she not been inspecting him as closely as she was, she would have missed the slight - ever so slight - hesitation of his right leg as he stepped forward. It was little more than a tiny irregularity, but in Draco-Malfoy-speak, he might as well have frozen in place. He was listening. And he was startled that Ginny and Harry knew about Hermione's bracelet.

"To be fair," Ginny hedged, trying to watch Malfoy without him noticing her gaze pinned to him. "I don't know if he's the predicted father," Harry muttered something about small miracles, "Andy wouldn't tell me if it was a Malfoy heirloom or a Black heirloom."

"What does that matter?" Harry grumbled, clinging to the hope that Malfoy wouldn't be such a permanent fixture in their lives.

"That's what I'm hoping to find out but every family has unique traditions. It could matter a great deal."

Then it happened. Ginny had been watching Draco in the reflection of a storefront-window when the blonde, seemingly cool and collected, glanced up from the cobblestone street and locked eyes with her in the reflection. Ginny had intended to do some snooping into the Malfoy and Black family traditions, Hermione-style, but the glint in Draco Malfoy's eyes told her everything she needed to know. Now she only needed confirmation.

Malfoy was jolted from their staring contest by the youngest witch in their party, Lucy, tugging on his arm. She pulled him off towards the bookstore Hermione was just disappearing inside. Ginny jumped at the chance. The updated Flourish and Blotts had _every_ book imaginable, having not only expanded the top floor, but adding a basement level as well.

Upon entering the shop, Lucy quickly dragged Harry away, having correctly identified him as the one with the smallest desire to browse _and_ the one most likely to help her find books on the top shelf. Hermione began her process of systematically sifting through the bookstore with Malfoy on her heels. Ginny took her moment of solitude to find the information she needed to protect her best friend.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco Malfoy managed to slip Hermione Granger easily. He only had to wait until she was halfway down the first row before she was completely enthralled with the task at hand. A mountain troll could have gone lumbering by and Hermione would have been none the wiser.

He had seen the flash of hair dart into the basement when its owner thought no one was looking. Draco refused to give Ginny Weasley the satisfaction. With one last glance over his shoulder to assure no one was watching him, Draco Malfoy did what Malfoys did best: he disappeared.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

It only took Ginny five minutes to find a promising book on the topic. The _Pureblood Directory: Updated for 1997_. If any book would help shed light on her friend's new jewelry, it was this one, written at the height of the wizarding war to capture the _glory_ of high pureblooded wizarding society. Ginny settled into one of two armchairs nestled into the back corner of the basement. Flipping the book open to _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_.

She skimmed over the family's history. She bristled at the mentions of Sirius. Finally, eight pages in, she found the sections entitled "Marriage Rituals and Child Rearing Traditions."

"Find something interesting?" The cool drawl shot Ginny from her seat and dragged her wand from its pocket.

Ginny heaved in her breath, recovering from the start, and stared down her wand at the bemused face of Draco Malfoy who lounged in the chair beside her own. Recognizing her surprise visitor, Ginny let out an angered huff and fell back to her chair, "Merlin, Malfoy, is there something I could help you with?"

"Not at all." Draco crossed his legs and rested his intertwined fingers atop his knee. "Learning about your heritage at last, Weasley?" He nodded at the book. It was sometimes easy to forget, but the Weasleys line was, in fact, an ancient line of purebloods.

"Something like that, Malfoy." Ginny reopened her book, careful not to reveal the section she flipped to, "Mind if I ask where your girlfriend and child are?"

"You'll start rumors that way, Weaslette." Despite his calm demeanor, Draco did glance around the small basement room in search of prying ears. "Assuming you're referring to Granger and Lucy, the former is probably halfway through her second shelf of browsing and the latter is following a similar pattern in the children's section, forcing your fiance to pull her books." Ginny chuckled. Poor Harry.

They fell silent. Draco alternated between scanning for new arrivals and checking his fingernails. Ginny read her book, turning to the _Malfoy Family_ when she completed the section at hand. She took great care to flip the pages without revealing to her silent partner about whom she was reading.


	18. Chapter 18

"Hey, Mione." Harry greeted the girl, startling her from her path along the bookcases. "Rememb-"

"Where's Lucy?" Hermione peered around the boy, worried about the younger girl, "She's only -"

"Eleven." Harry said flatly, "At eleven we were fighting a dark lord. I think she can handle being alone in the kid's section to read for a bit." Hermione grumbled something about lost childhoods and that she had been _twelve, thank you very much_ , but relented, allowing Harry to continue, "I'm going to run a couple errands. I'll meet you all for lunch at noon? At the Leaky?"

"Is this about-" Harry nodded, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"McGonagall actually asked me to bring Malfoy along. She said there was something in there Dumbledore's portrait insisted he needed to see."

"Really? Draco?" Hermione arched her brow delicately, "Typical Dumbledore. Gone but-"

"Gone, but never done." Hermione sighed. That had been one of the few things Harry and Hermione had never been able to find common ground on during their time at school. It was only after their year on the run, only after the Battle of Hogwarts that Harry had relented and realized that Dumbledore, while his intentions might have been better than others, played the games of power and politics just like any other leader they had encountered.

Dumbledore had spent most of the last decade, even after his death, meddling in Harry's affairs and now he seemed fit to interfere in Draco's. If what Harry had seen in the pensieve had been true, Dumbledore had been at play all along.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Did you find what you needed?" Draco asked when Ginny closed her book. Ginny nodded, still digesting the information. "Care to impart your new wisdom upon me?"

"Why would you care about what I read?" Ginny brushed her fingers along the spine of the book.

"Well, unless I'm mistaken, you were reading from the Malfoy and Black families' sections. As I am the sole heir of both lines I do consider your newfound interest in their affairs my business."

Ginny tilted her head in challenge, "Teddy is just a much a Black as you are."

"Albeit of a disowned branch." Draco countered. "But he's no more a Malfoy than you."

"And you're his only living blood relative causing my interest."

"Red, are we truly still arguing this point?"

"It appears we are."

"Oi, Malfoy!" A voice called as boots _clomped_ down the stairs. Draco winced and vowed to teach the boy-who-lived some manners, "We have an errand to run." Despite his raised brow, Draco stood to follow his childhood nemesis.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco hated how the Goblins looked at him. He had control over several accounts in the bank's depths that safely placed him in the top echelons of wizarding wealth. For that they had to begrudgingly respect him. But the goblins remembered the reign of his aunt's terror and his position at her side. They did not differentiate between willing and non-willing accomplices. They were not as forgiving as Hermione.

Harry's situation was not much better. The-boy-who-lived freed the wizarding and goblin worlds from the clutches of evil. But he also thwarted their defences, freed their dragon, and destroyed their foyer. They were still rebuilding their chandelier and the ministry was putting up one hell of a fight over chaining another dragon in the caverns. He had a sneaking suspicion that all the correspondence one curly-haired brunette suddenly had with ministry owls might be a cause of some of the delay.

Harry and Draco clambered into the little cart just behind their goblin guide who refused to voice more than a grunt or a huff. The two wizards had to tuck their knees up to their chins to fit into the now-careening cart. As they bumped and swerved down the track, Harry and Draco bumped and jostled into each other. Their current position, thighs and arms pressed together, was a far cry from any previous situation they had found themselves in and despite their newfound truce, as soon as the cart ground to a halt, they sprung from its confines and away from one another.

The goblin waddled its way across the cave floor. They had pulled in to a small side tunnel, not too far from the bank's foyer. Draco knew it to be where they kept the transfer vaults that were used when someone died and left only parts of their accounts to a person or when someone gifted a large sum. The goblin slid key after key around its ring. Draco and Harry stood silently, waiting.

Harry hadn't told Draco what vault they were visiting. Or whose money it contained. Lupin and Nymphadora would have left everything to their son. Maybe they arranged for an amount to transfer to Potter for child rearing, but what of Andromeda. Harry's own inheritance would have transferred long ago. Perhaps Potter was passing along something of his own, but to whom.

With a twist of a key, the door swung open and Draco immediately knew whose vault it was. The silver gadgets twisted and turned, emitting noises and tiny puffs of smoke. Harry took a shuddering breath and stepped through the door. Draco, on the other hand, took a step back. Harry, upon realizing the growing the distance between himself and the blond, turned back.

"Malfoy," Harry leveled him with his green gaze, his face looking twice its biological age, "He wanted you here. He wanted you specifically here. To see something."

"To see what?" Draco whispered, his voice cracking for the first time since puberty.

"I don't know." Harry shrugged, "He just said to bring you along to see something. Said you'd need the reassurance or something. I have another appointment to keep so I'd like to make this quick. Hurry up and, erm, look at things."

Without another word, Harry turned back around and traveled further into the vault. Draco took a tentative step in after him. Harry sifted through the many items Dumbledore had left behind for him, the closest thing the elderly wizard had had to a son. The young man was consulting a piece of parchment he had pulled from his pocket and was levitating items from one side of the room to the other.

This left Draco to wander and do his best not to break any of the delicate metal limbs protruding at odd angles. First, he inspected something that looked like a scale, but when he fiddled with one of its platters it turned from silver to a bright purple. He stumbled back and had to jerk to avoid knocking over a precariously piled stack of books. Recovering from the near-disruption, Draco ran his finger down the spines, reading the titles as he went. Charms and transfiguration and history, each title was more and more boring. Until he reached the second to last tomb.

"Hey Potter," Draco called, wrestling the book out from the pile, "Mind if I nick this?"

Potter spared him a glance over his shoulder and snorted when he saw the item, "Go for it. Take as many as you'd like. I was just going to give them all to Hermione. Only one who'd appreciate 'em."

Draco nodded, shrinking the book to the size of a watch-face and tucking it into his pocket. With his newfound prize, Draco continued his wandering.

Could that have been it? A simple book? There were an awful lot of them here, probability was in his favor. He past five more piles of books, one of which was as tall as him. How would Dumbledore know about it? He had never acted during Dumbledore's life, his advances had only came after the wizard's death. He past three suits of armor, a bird cage, and a mi- Draco stopped in his tracks.

They were not alone in this room. Draco's neck cracked as he whipped his head to look around. No one was there, just Potter who almost knocked over a large pile of parchments. Draco could only see them in the mirror.

"Potter." Draco called, not taking his eyes off the newcomers, "Potter, there's someone here." Potter turned, and immediately his face lit with recognition, "You know them?"

"Malfoy," Harry walked tentatively towards Draco and the newcomers, "It's not what it looks like." He flickered his eyes down to his parchment, "I'm supposed to have that transferred to some museum in Germany. Just walk away from it."

But Draco was already enthralled, staring at the two little girls that had finally drawn closer to the mirror's surface, "There's an engraving.' _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.'_ What does that mean?" He had done his best to sound it out, but was sure he had butchered it despite his extensive training in half a dozen languages.

One little girl climbed up the pile of books to his right, on top a bookshelf and gracefully climbed onto Draco's shoulders. Reflexively, he raise a hand to steady her, but only felt his own silvery locks. The two girls did not look alike. The one one his shoulder had pale, pale skin, almost white as snow. The lightness by contrast made her large, chocolate eyes and straight, caramel hair shock her viewer. The other girl wrapped an arm around his leg, burying her face in his hip as if seeking solace in him while meeting a stranger. He reached for the girl's flowing golden locks, but his hand only brushed his thigh. He met her eyes in the mirror, a bright blue, similar to ones he had seen but could not place.

"Draco," Harry creeped closer, but dared not enter the reflection of the mirror, "It's a charmed mirror. Whatever you're seeing isn't real."

"Then why the hell am I seeing children, Potter?" A little boy had ran into the frame. Had he been sitting ramrod straight or sneering, Draco would have thought he looked like his younger self. A girl, younger than the first two raced into the frame, chasing the boy, with her curls bouncing. The child on his shoulders called out to them, what, Draco could not hear.

"Children?" Potter was clearly surprised, "You're seeing children?"

An older girl entered the frame. She looked much like the others, but her hair was deep, dark ebony, in unruly curls. They reminded him of a young Hermione. The thought brought a smile to his face. The young teenager balanced a brunette toddler on her hip. Both these newcomers looked familiar to Draco, but he could not place them. He rarely interacted with children; he should be able to place them. In the reflection the teenager gave Draco a kiss on his cheek and the little girl burst out giggling, reaching for him. His hand came up to linger on his cheek. "And a teenager."

"How many are there?" Potter was standing just out of the picture's view now, "What do they look like?"

"One looks just like my mum. She's right-" For the second time, Draco reached down to touch the blonde girl's hair only to be met by vacant space. "Does it show the past, Potter? Is this actually my mum as a kid?"

"How many, Malfoy?" Harry asked a growing urgency in his voice.

Draco counted the children, which was no easy task with the three younger ones running laps around him, "Six. There are six."

"Not eight?"

"No. Six. Why would there be eight?"

"It's time to leave, Malfoy. Now." Despite the blonde's protests, Harry pulled his companion from the room.

Even after the vault door closed behind him, Draco tried to catch another glimpse of the reflection, but, for obvious reasons could not. Harry had to drag the boy into the cart and only once they stepped into the sunlight of Diagon Alley did either speak.

"What the hell was that, Potter?" Draco shook his head roughly as if trying to dislodge water from his ear.

" _That_ was the mirror or Erised." Harry paused, watching the other boy from the corner of his eye and trying not to be seen, "It shows your deepest desire, that thing you want more than anything else. I found it my first year and Dumbledore found me. He warned that many wizards had wasted away staring at whatever the mirror held."

"What did you see? Children?" Draco raked his fingers over his face. He appeared just on the cusp of losing his carefully constructed cool.

"My family." Potter said without batting an eye, "My mum and my dad, others, too. Aunt and uncles I suppose. Grandparents. The whole lot of them."

"They weren't my family. I've never seen them before?" Draco raised an eyebrow, still thinking of that little blonde head that was just out of reach.

"Siblings?" Harry proposed, letting the word hang between them. "Your mum could have more kids."

Draco fell into step with Harry, allowing the other boy to guide their travels. His mother had had miscarriages throughout his youth. He knew of three of them. That's not to say there weren't others. Perhaps the children were his unborn siblings. He _had_ always wanted a sibling and that little girl, maybe eight years old, looked _just_ like his mother. Perhaps that was the sister he lost just after he arrived at Hogwarts. The brunette on his shoulders had looked about the same age, maybe a little younger. The sibling he had lost at the end of his first year? But her brown hair was unfamiliar. He supposed his more distant Black relatives had dark brown hair, maybe it was a long dormant trait realized at last. The eldest child, the young teenager, certainly looked like a Black. If she hadn't been craddelling the toddler so lovingly, Draco would accuse her of resembling Bellatrix. But Bellatrix had never been loving, not even with -

"Malfoy." Potter's voice broke through his thoughts, "I have one more appointment. You don't have to come, but, um, I'd, well, I didn't tell Hermione or Ginny about this one, so if you could - "

"Don't worry, Potter, I won't be telling your girlfriends on you," He continued speaking over Harry's complaint (Best friend and fiance, Malfoy), "But seeing as I have nothing better to do, I suppose I'll follow along."

"Then take off your robes." Potter was already shucking off his own.

"Whoa. Potter," Draco held his hands up, ready to ward off the other boy, "I know we're getting along better, but-"

"Calm down, Malfoy, I promise, you're not my type." Draco finally looked around, they were in small alleyway between Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. Potter had transfigured his robe into a small rock, which he tossed into the dirt. "We're going into muggle London. Best not be wearing that when we do so." Draco scoffed, transfigured his robes into a small piece of brick and tucked it into a crack in the wall.

Draco blindly followed Harry through the nearly-deserted pub and onto the streets of London. He had only been to Muggle London twice, once with his father on business and the other with his aunt on _business._ Draco cringed and pushed the thought away. Potter led him down several streets, through an alley, and across a bridge. They eventually stopped in the middle of a street in the heart of downtown London. There were several shops and restaurants cluttering the streets with dozens of muggles mulling about, conducting their business.

He heard Harry mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "Here goes nothing" before he approached a cluster of three muggles. A portly man, a bird-like woman, and a boy around their age who was large, taller than Potter and almost as tall as himself, and seemed to be fit. An odd group they made, even odder once Harry joined them.

The younger boy stood between the older pair, his parents, perhaps, though he looked nothing like them. This boy seemed genuinely happy to see Potter. He appeared to breathe a sigh of relief when Potter shook the older man's hand. The woman sniffed as she shook Harry's hand with only the tips of her fingers.

"Oi, you." The older man barked looking at Draco with his reddening face, "What arya looking at?" Draco's eyebrow arched upwards and he crossed his arms.

"Dad." The boy barked in a similar tone. So Draco had been right.

"Uncle Vernon," Potter addressed the older man, "This is Draco. We went to school together."

The man, Vernon, who had reached a bright tomato red, seemed to choke on his own tongue while the woman went pale, paler than Draco.

Potter had turned to look back at Draco, "Draco, these are my Aunt and Uncle, Petunia and Vernon. And my cousin, Dudley."

Draco regarded the trio with his coldest eye. The muggles who had been known throughout the wizarding world. After thirty seconds of silence, Dudley cleared his throat and spoke "I'll go in and change our reservations to five then." And the boy was gone, tucking in to a small tea shop.

Potter shuffled his feet, Petunia busied herself in her handbag, and Draco and Vernon glared at one another, Vernon with red daggers and Draco with cool and collected ice. He had heard about these people. They had been awful to Potter, everyone knew that come third year when Harry hadn't been allowed to Hogsmeade. Draco couldn't care less about Potter's wellbeing, but he knew Hermione would want him to - well, she wouldn't want him to be a right arse back, but glaring was the closest he'd ever get to defending Potter.

"They're ready for us." The boy returned and led the group into the small shop.

Their table had finger sandwiches and an assortment of teas, but no one took a bite. Draco sat across from Vernon, between Dudley and Harry. He had originally been positioned beside the woman, but Potter had shooed him away. Warning Draco that the adults were _petrified_ of magic. Well. This will be fun.

Draco kept his actions subtle. Wandlessly and nonverbally stirring his tea. Making the sugar in the bowl flee the spoon Vernon was shoving in. Draco held back his chuckles, keeping his expression a perfect mask, only letting one slip when Harry elbowed him sharply. Vernon turned redder and redder, getting more and more flustered.

Draco finally tired of his game of snake and mouse, choosing instead to sip his tea. This was a mistake. Vernon asked his son rather abruptly, "Now Dudley, we've had tea with these poofs. Are we free to go back to our days now? I have a meeting at noon back in Surrey."

Draco chose to ignore the slur, but Harry rose to the occasion, commenting about his engagement to a lovely woman. Draco spoke over him, "You're a businessman, Vernon, are you?" The man in question nodded, "Which business is that then?" He answered with a curt _drills,_ "I don't suppose you've heard of Malfoy Enterprises, have you."

"I have." Vernon answered curtly, boasting his knowledge, "Big company. Fingers in all sorts of pies. Construction, Pharmaceuticals, Vineyards, Hotels. Secretive CEO. Although I did just hear it was handed off to the son. Young boy. Funny-" Vernon had the good sense to freeze. Harry had stopped his protest over the slur and was instead massaging his temples. Dudley was watching Harry, a crease between his brows, Petunia was inspecting her husband and Draco in turn, and Draco was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

"Funny name?" Draco's smirk had appeared in full force. As if the war had never occured, Draco Malfoy, schoolyard bully, was back, swagger intact. "Yes, muggles do often think my name is funny. Then again, what do they know?"

"You're - you're him?"

"Draco Malfoy. CEO of Malfoy Enterprises. President of Malfoy Apothecaries and its muggle subsidiaries." Vernon's eyes shot back and forth, back and forth. From Draco to Harry to Petunia to random muggles around them and back, as if looking for someone to save him. "What's wrong, Vernon? Does it not fit in you're precious little mind that the owner of a company you look up to, one of the largest in both our worlds, is a wizard? That I'm magic?" He let a cascade of glittery magic dance across the table.

Vernon opened his mouth as if to retort. But no words formed. The man stood up, pushing back from the table with such force that it knocked his chair onto the ground with a great clatter. With little more than a sputter, the man fled from the room, his wife trailing after him.

Draco sat back in his chair with a smug look. Hermione wouldn't be _proud_ of his actions, but he _did_ defend Harry against his childhood tormentors. That must count for something.

Dudley righted his father's abandoned chair. "So, um," Dudley looked sheepishly at his cousin and threw some bills down onto the table, "We'll try this again next year?"

"Next time I'll leave this one with his girlfriend." Harry shot a look at the blonde. Draco had had such a good time he couldn't bear himself to refute the girlfriend comment. He grabbed a biscuit for the walk back.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione weighed the two books. Her right hand held a book about runes in Ancient Greece, a topic they had just began learning about in class. The one in her left was the updated version of a defense against the dark arts tome she had come to rely on their year on the run. The older version had saved her life time and time again. An updated version would help them defeat - she cocked her head to the side and wrinkled her brow.

There were no more dark wizards to defeat. At least, none that she was responsible for defeating. Voldemort had fallen, rather spectacularly, in front of his ranks. Three-quarters of the remaining army had been rounded up and thrown in Azkaban, some awaiting trial and others serving lengthy sentences. Although the final quarter had escaped, there hadn't been a peep from them in the many months since the battle. There was no need for the update. Hermione returned it to the shelf. And then plucked it back off and placed it gently in her overflowing basket.

"Merlin, Hermione. You're going to have to consolidate!" The witch in question nearly jumped out of her skin and came face to face with Ginny with Lucy in tow. She _had_ accumulated quite the stack.


	19. Chapter 19

Despite Ginny's constant ribbing on her friend, Hermione left the bookstore with a dozen books and Lucy with another seven for a bit of light reading. Ginny had blatantly snorted when the little girl unknowingly mimicked her older friend. For the second time today, Lucy skipped off to peruse the displays, honing in on Quality Quidditch Supplies's newest line of gloves - sponsored by none other than Viktor Krum.

"What did the book say?" Hermione asked Ginny urgently. Her wrinkled brow quickly unfurrowed when realization dawned on her. The Pureblood book.

She hedged, "Do you think Draco gave you a Black or a Malfoy heirloom?"

"He claims to have turned his back on his father. But," Hermione paused.

"He worshiped his father all through his childhood. That doesn't just go away." Ginny finished to Hermione's resigned nod. Lucy scurried across the street to admire a new set of dress robes, "Based on the book, Malfoy had better hope that bracelet comes from dear old dad, otherwise, he had better start babyproofing that manor of his." Hermione blushed furiously, "And I'm sure Grams and Gramps will be thrilled with their eight half-blood rugrats."

Hermione stopped cold on the street. How had she forgotten? The fine white lines on her forearm itched unbearably. She _knew_ the Malfoy beliefs. She had _seen_ them at that soon-to-be-babyproofed manor. And rather than worrying about bearing the heirs to a blood-supremacist line she had instead been creating a checklist of babyproofing tasks. _Charm the stairs, soften the marble, plug the sockets - does the manor have electrical sockets, is there a wizarding equivalent?_

She was going to be carrying a Malfoy. Many Malfoys by the way the charms jingled on the chain. Lucius hated her kind. _He's locked up_. Narcissa was at least complicit. _She spared Harry._ Only to save her son. _Her son_. Her son who called her vicious names. Who tormented her. Who stood unfeeling, watching her be tortured in the manor she had been mentally securing.

How had she been so _stupid._ Those clanking charms were deafening her. Their clasp dug into her wrist. She was constricted. Her scarf felt too tight. _Stupid stupid._ She couldn't breathe. Her vision was spotty. She tried to rub her eyes, but she couldn't. Her blood was pumping in her ears. It sounded like gunshots ringing in her ears.

 _So stupid, Hermione._

 _Idiotic, in fact, Hermione._

"Hermione!" Her vision flooded back. _Too bright_.

Everything had continued as if nothing had happened. People walked past them with shopping bags in hand. Lucy lectured the boys surrounding her about the best glove materials. The world kept spinning as if she hadn't come to an earth shattering realization. _The Malfoys were bigots._ Shocker _._

The only break in the norm was Ginny gripping her wrists like a vice, halting their progression to her face and forcing the bracelet into her skin. Another break with footsteps pounding the pavement. First Harry's, then Draco's a step behind him in noticing the girls. This rush drew Lucy's attention and she scurried back to her companions.

"It has to be from Malfoy. It has to be, Gin." Hermione's eyes flicked back and forth between Ginny's. "It can't, they can't -"

"Hermione," Harry had reached them, followed quickly by Draco, "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Hermione insisted, her voice cracking, "Stubbed my toe on an uneven stone. Really hurt." After a searching look and an abrupt nod from his fiance, Harry accepted her answer. Lucy grabbed Hermione's hand and refused to let go. Draco fell into step beside her, but it did not afford her the same comfort as before. _Draco was a Malfoy. She could not allow herself to divorce him from his ancestry._

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"You sure you don't want me to carry that?" Draco gestured to Hermione's new possessions, two overflowing bags of books and another with her new quill and ink set.

"I got it." She pulled the bags defiantly closer to her. He tried to keep his facial expressions light, but Hermione had become better at reading even slight changes, "I'm rather handy with a featherlight charm."

"I know." His voice was choked and Hermione had to remind herself of his surname lest she feel any guilt. "Lucy, go see if Ginny and Potter want to stop for lunch." With a roll of her eyes and a scoff, Lucy complied. "You didn't stub your toe. Are you going to tell me what's really wrong?" No response, but Hermione did quicken her step. "Did that little episode of yours have anything to do with the book I saw Red reading this morning?" Faster still. "I'm not like them, Granger, not anymore." There was a film forming over her eyes "I can't fix what I don't know I did, Granger. Listen to me." He grabbed her wrist, the bracelet digging in again.

And then he was gone. The momentum from her near jog sent her two more steps forward before she noticed that Draco had fallen to his knees in the middle of the cobblestone street. His eyes were focused on a stone ahead, but there was a tenseness in his face and a quiver in his right hand. Not to mention that he was _on his knees_.

"Draco?" Hermione rushed to the man, "Draco!" He was nonresponsive despite his unwavering attention to the stone. "What's going on? Harry!" Abruptly, Draco fell forward, barely managing to brace himself with his hands. His focus on the stone broke and his nails dug into the stone. "Draco!" Hermione covered the short distance between the two.

"Ms. Granger, ma'am, I stopped him!" A raggedy man in a mustard yellow robe gleefully approached, "And Mr. Potter, my lucky day! Mr. Potter, sir, the Malfoy runt was grabbing at Ms. Granger -"

"So you Crucio-d him in the middle of Diagon Alley?" Hermione screeched, looking up from her position kneeling beside Malfoy. Ginny, now at Harry's side, mimicked her outrage. Draco silently heaved beside the argument.

"I - He was attacking Ms. Granger. Wasn't he?" The man seemed to wilt.

Draco sat back on his haunches, swaying a bit before balancing himself with a hand to the ground. He dragged his other hand from his side to press at his temples. His right pinky was still twitching erratically, "I'm fine, Granger. I'm fine. Just surprised me."

"Harry we need a Mediwitch here." Draco protested, but his voice was weak, "And the Aurors."

Draco found the strength to command, "No. Aurors."

"I'll call Ron." Harry sighed aging before his companions' eyes as his eyes slid from the now-fidgety man to Hermione to Draco. Preempting Ginny's doubt, he continued, "He'll get someone from the DMLE and we can probably keep it off the books." Aside from Ginny's muttered comment about the _Chosen One my arse_ , she did not protest beyond a grimace as Harry sent a Patronus.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

As a true testament to the lastingness of Ron's temper, he refused to come. To his credit, he sent an acknowledgment of the communication: laughing at Malfoy's misfortune, thanking the perpetrator, and informing them that it was his day off and that Lavender was doing _wonderful thank you very much_.

Ginny's Patronus was far more effective, being close personal friends with the Minister of Magic had its perks after all. As Aurors began popping into being and Draco's grumbling finished, Ginny thanked Hermione.

"For what?" The brunette asked with a wrinkled brow, her eyes never straying from the blonde holding one finger to his nose while standing on one foot under the withering gaze of a greying Mediwitch.

"For keeping him alive last year." Ginny rolled her eyes at her fiance. Harry was trying to amuse Lucy, but like Hermione, she only had eyes for Draco. Harry made one particularly loud laugh and Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and letting out a loud sigh, "Honestly, calling Ronald. _The Chosen One._ "

"The Chosen One is _so_ last month, Ginerva. The Golden Girl is _really_ the one who is the talk of the town." A voice slithered around the duo. "Leaving Ronald Weasley when he was expecting his first child? And in such a public affair too? But no interviews? Me, myself, and I want to know, _why?_ "

"It wasn't her child, Rita, so _bug_ ger off." The older woman, dressed in a horrendously green robe, briefly lost her coloring at Ginny's play on words.

She continued nonetheless, "Hogwarts is hosting a Valentine's Day ball, I've heard. Who will the _lovely_ Golden Girl be going with? Perhaps Mister Malfoy?"

"Malfoy and I are just friends, Rita." Draco was now trying to charm his way away from the Mediwitch and her Medibroom which had arrived with a young Meditrainee.

"Oh!" She preened, her quick-quotes quill flying to her side and her notebook flipping open. "Friends? You're friends? Now Hermione dear, there is a very fine line between friends and a _relationship_. Are you pining after the young Mister Malfoy? Would his pending inheritance have anything to do with it?" Hermione felt her fingers begin to play with the bracelet beads. Ginny knocked them away before Rita could notice.

"Rita, _darling_!" A new voice exclaimed. The three women turned back towards Draco only to see a beautiful woman striding away from him, towards them under his watchful gaze. The Meditrainee.

Hermione felt herself heat and her extremities tingled with adrenaline. The newcomer had sharp, bright blue eyes hooded with a dark set of lashes. Her ebony hair fell in smooth waves just short of her waist, clipped back out of her face. Her formfitting midi skirt stretched as she strode towards the group and her long white coat billowed outwards, reminding Hermione of Snape's robes. And Draco was watching her.

"Ms. Parkinson, you're a sight for sore eyes." Hermione and Ginny both blinked at _Pansy_. She had grown into her nose - now it would be better described as a button than as puglike. "Last I heard you were in Italy, studying in Rome."

"No no, Rita, my dear, I was in _New York_ , but I was recently transferred to St. Mungo's." _Pansy_? _In Medicine?_ The two witches chattered away, allowing Hermione and Ginny an escape from the vapid reporter. Ginny set off to save Lucy from her fiance and Hermione reached Draco as he was signing his release form under the Mediwitch's disapproving gaze. She snatched the document from his hands and disapparated away.

"I promise, Meditrainee Parkinson will not let me go without her special brand of treatment, Mediwitch Greer." Hermione felt the corners of her lips curve down with Draco's words. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

The witch muttered something about foolish boys and thanked Hermione for her service. She crossed to her broom to prepare for departure.

"Granger. Skeeter shouldn't bother you for the rest of the day." Pansy had appeared again, "Draco. My wards should recognize you just fine. If you are not there by the time I arrive home to night at six o'clock I will be forced to commit you to the hospital against your will - I have that power now."

"Pans, I really don't need -"

"Do you still have the night terrors?" Draco was silent, "You know they're aggravated by the cruciatus. Don't be a moron. It's mine or the hospital, your choice." Again Draco was silent. Pansy must have taken that for agreement, "Six." She nodded curtly at Hermione before leaving for her broom.

The whispers around them died down with the departure of the medical professionals and passersby began to pass by once more. With the spotlight no longer on their small group, Lucy rushed to Draco, throwing her arms around him. He stumbled back a step, still not at his full strength after his attack, and only Hermione's hand at the base of his shoulder blades prevented him from tipping over entirely. She was struck with the memory of how she hugged Harry, but not Ron - never Ron - when she had been awoken from the Basilisk's spell in her second year.

"I, erm, I knew we said we'd do lunch here," Harry pulled uncomfortably on his collar, "But maybe it's a better idea to eat back at the Burrow."

"Potter, that's the smartest thing you've said all day."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The afternoon rushed by. Hermione perched on her green sofa, surrounded by an expertly cast warming charm, while she watched the others soar above her head. Harry, Ginny, and Draco thought today - the day that Draco was savagely attacked on the streets - was a great day to help Lucy perfect her dive. Everytime one of them rushed towards the ground, Hermione felt her heart jump into her chest. She had already watched one crumple today, she did not want a repeat.

As the sun set in the sky and supper drew near, Draco and Lucy landed, leaving the couple high above. The pair approached Hermione and she sat up straighter, plucking at the non-existent stray fluff on her sweater.

"It's quarter til." Draco said.

"Dinner should be - oh." Pansy, "So you're be off then. Are, um, are you both going?"

"Lucy and Pansy are close. I thought it'd be nice for them to see each other." The words hung, "The apparition point is just beyond that hill, correct?" Hermione nodded and they were gone.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

When Pansy came home, her two house guests were in very different moods. Lucy ran to her, wrapping her little arms around Pansy's waist in greeting. Draco, on the other hand, lounged with his legs over the arm of an antique arm chair and offered her a grunt. Lucy chattered about school and about getting her wand and her time at the Burrow. Draco offered one word answers to open-ended questions.

This behavior continued through dinner - a wonderful roast prepared by Pansy's elf Pipsy - and well into the evening. Lucy asked for a bedtime story and Pansy had to magically force her way into Draco's room only to find him magically peeling the wallpaper slowly from her walls.

"Is this typical behavior or could it be a result of the curse?" Pansy glibbed, leaning against the still-sparking door frame.

"Typical when I'm being held hostage." Draco decided now was a good time to use his wand to send embers dancing across the peeled paper.

"You aren't a hostage. You had a choice." Pansy pushed into the room and sat next to him on the bed, she waited a beat before giving voice to the question that had been on her mind since she had responded to the scene in Diagon Alley, "When the hell did you replace the Weasel as Granger's shadow?"

"We aren't talking about Granger."

"And why not?"

"She's not yours to talk about."

"And last I checked she's not yours to protect." Their voices had risen and Draco looked nonplussed, his eyes widening ever so slightly, "Sorry." He grunted and there was another pause, tenser this time. Draco took the opportunity to magically ball the paper up and truly set it ablaze, "How's she doing?"

"Granger's fine."

"I meant Del. Not Granger." Draco's jaw clenched.

Through gritted teeth, he tersely grunted, "She's fine."

"How old is she now? Almost one?" Another grunt. "What's going to happen to her?" He shrugged, "Could your mother take her?"

"And say what?" Draco snorted, "Confess to the world, 'Surprise! I had a child in my late forties and she looks nothing like my husband!' Sure Pans."

"She can't stay with that hag forever."

"She'll stay there until I can think of something better." Pansy tried to reason with him, but it was all for naught.

Pansy, waving her wand to fix the wallpaper and the doorway as she went, left Draco. Draco kept watching the flaming ball in front of him. Until his eyes were drawn to the window. It was dark, but it wasn't too late. He flicked his wand. Eleven. He had time. He could make it. And through the floo he went.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Ginny had finally slid into her bed. She flicked her want. Just before eleven. Her parents would be going to sleep soon, maybe she could slip into Harry's room upstairs. Even if her parents weren't asleep, maybe they would just chalk it up to the house settling. Just as she was preparing to make her escape, a knock sounded at her door. Harry must have beaten her to it. He usually wasn't that brazen. When she opened the door, she was thankful hs had left her clothing on because it wasn't Harry.

Hermione watched her foot as she dug her toe against the wood floor. "Sorry to bother you - I just -" Ginny nodded and accepted her friend into the room. They both climbed into the bed, back to back to lay with their own thoughts until Hermione spoke, "I went to check on Lucy."

Ginny turned to look at the back of her friend's bushy head. It was pulled back into a bun. "Does this have anything to do with what happened with the bracelet earlier today?"

"He was a Death Eater." Hermione whispered to the wall, "He still has his mark. Ron said the one's he had seen after the war had lost theirs." She used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that had begun to leak. "What if his is still there because he still thinks - and what if he's the father - he - he can't be the father - my kids can't be Malfoy's - I can't -"

She was getting more and more worked up. Her spiral earlier in the day had only been the tip of the iceberg. Beyond the Malfoy name, Draco had been nice to her for a handful of months. He had been awful to her for _more_ than a handful of _years_. She couldn't throw that history out just because he had shielded her in the aftermath of Ron's betrayal. She couldn't forget, "Kind words don't erase the path." The wind blew, rattling the window and sending a load creak through the house, "I wish -" She choked on a silent sob. Ginny slung and arm around her friend, cuddling into her back, "I wish I could take this bracelet off. It just reminds me that any day I might - I might forget the past and make the mistake that traps me." The wind bellowed again and the house creaked, crying along with Hermione.

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

The scarlet steam engine blew its whistle indicating its intention to leave in fifteen short minutes. Hermione and Ginny had just passed through the magical barrier and were scanning the platform for a friendly face. Harry had had to ship off to Greece to start training for the spring season and the Weasleys left with Charlie to pack up his things in Romania and prepare for his return to England. That left Hermione and Ginny alone to travel to Kings Cross.

"There!" Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm and began pulling her through the crowds. Hermione saw them a moment later. Theo in a dark sweater and dark jeans. Draco already in his school pants and shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, but his arms were turned in such a way that she could not see his mark. He briefly met her eyes, but offered no acknowledgement. His eyes remained an icy, impenetrable gaze. Confused, she turned her eyes to Theo as they drew closer. He only gave a curt nod.

The two girls were moments from the boys when Hermione was lifted off her feet. Someone had grabbed her around the waist and twirled her into the air. Finally finding the ground again, Hermione turned to see Blaise, grinning ear to ear. She looked over her shoulder, back to Draco and Theo, expecting them to have broken their poker faces now that their prank was over, but the masks were still in pace.

Blaise, Hermione and Ginny drew even with the boys. They asked first after Blaise's holiday and then Theo's. They inquired after Lucy - she had found a friend from Hufflepuff to sit with. The only topic left was Draco's night with Pansy, but Hermione dared not ask about that. Just as they ran out of small talk, a girl with perfectly wavy hair squeezed between Draco and Blaise to loop her arm around Draco's.

The newcomer lifted onto her toes to brush a light kiss against Draco's cheek. Hermione could see from the corner of her eye the look of astonishment on Ginny's face. She did her best to keep her own face neutral when in reality she thought she tasted her breakfast for the second time that morning.

"Sarah." Blaise said by way of greeting, sounding just as confused as Ginny looked, "Pleasant holiday?"

With a grin from ear to ear, Sarah responded in the affirmative and inquired after everyone else's break. Hermione was finally able to place her. She had gone to the Halloween Ball with Draco. Ginny seemed to come to the same realization, "Aren't you like thirteen?" Hermione could've thrust her palm against her forehead, but she barely managed to keep back the laugh.

"Sixteen, thank you very much. I stayed back a year after the war and all since the teaching was so, well, you know, and I grew up in the muggle world so I'm a bit slower picking magic up."

Hermione bristled, but it was Blaise that spoke, "Granger here's a muggleborn. She could've taught seventh years by the end of her first!"

"Isn't sixteen a little young for this?" Ginny added on swinging a finger between Sarah and Draco.

"No different from Granger and Krum." _Granger._ Draco's words stung as he reverted back to her surname. She felt her cheeks heat and was so glad the group would think it was a result of the allusion to her first relationship back in her fourth year.

"Oh Draco!" Sarah cooed, "I just saw Astoria! Let's go." And away the pair went, Sarah pulling Draco by the hand.

Theo, in response to Draco's pleading look, broke his mask to chuckle, "You're on your own." His expression turned stony again as he gave a parting word to the girls before he set of for the train. Blaise gave them both a wave and ran after his friend, demanding an explanation.

Luna and Neville met Ginny and Hermione at the entrance to the train. Neville picked up a discarded copy of the Prophet from an early bench. The four walked single file through the train, Hermione poking her head into compartments here and there to perform her duties as head. When she saw Draco sitting in a compartment across from a gossiping pair of Slytherin sixteen year olds, Ginny almost chuckled at the pout of his face, but she did not want to draw Hermione's attention. Hermione, for her part, pretended not to notice.

No sooner had they found a vacant compartment and Neville open his paper than he started to fidget. He bumped Ginny's knee four times before the witch yelled for him to come out with it, whatever _it_ may be. He cleared his throat nervously and handed the open newspaper to Hermione. Ginny switched seats to look over her friend's shoulder.

Hermione did not need to read Skeeter's newest article, the pictures and title told the whole story. There were four pictures spread across the entire page the article took up. The first was of Hermione crouched in front of Malfoy who was on his hands and knees. Her hand was on his back and her face was etched in worry. Clearly, the picture came from the attack in Diagon Alley. The next picture was of Pansy tending to Draco, a soft smile threatening the corners of his lips. Followed quickly by a picture of Hermione glaring at Draco and Pansy. .

Finally, the last picture was centered in the article, demanding the reader's attention. Draco sat at a breakfast spread with Sarah at his side and an older man with wiry black hair across from him. The picture's caption stated that it was Sarah's father and that the three had gone to breakfast before the train this morning. _Which Witch Will Win Draco Malfoy's Heart?_


	20. Chapter 20

The first evening back was tense - even Blaise couldn't cut through the tension permeating from Draco. When the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station, Draco had practically flew to the carriages and was off to the castle before Theo, who was sitting with Blaise in the adjacent compartment, had even retrieved his bag from the overhead rack. Astoria snidely commented to Sarah that Astoria's future husband would've helped her with her bag.

Blaise and Theo proceeded as normal, but found Draco missing from his seat at the end of the eighth year table. Instead, they sat in their usual seats with Granger beside them. Blaise watched Hermione's eyes flicker from the empty seat to various places around the hall. He knew the minute she had found Draco, her jaw clenched ever just so and he could have sworn her left eye twitched. Blaise followed her eye line and kicked Theo under the table. The other boy turned in his seat to join the gawking.

Draco sat in the middle of the Slytherin table - they had never been forbidden from sitting at their house tables - where he had sat the previous seven years. In the exact middle of the Slytherin table. The perfect place to hold court. On one side of him was Astoria Greengrass and on the other was Sarah Fuergeson. The two girls yammered back and forth across Malfoy. Malfoy twirled his fork in his hand as if debating whether to stab Sarah or Astoria or himself. Maybe a combination of the three.

Luckily, dinner ended without any bloodshed and Hermione followed the Weasley Girl from the hall with only three backward glances towards the Slytherin table. She fought off the desire four additional times. As soon as the Golden Girl cleared the front doors, Blaise and Theo rose in unison and stalked to the Slytherin table. Standing, one boy behind each of the girls, Theo pulled Draco from his spot on the bench while Blaise crooned to the ladies, "Sorry, dears, but it's past Drakie's bedtime."

It took a stunning spell, but the boys were able to get Draco into the eighth year Slytherin common room. "Draco, if you're going to suddenly start giving Granger the cold shoulder, you're going to have to clue us in as to why."

"I already told you, Theo." The blonde grumbled, sulking into the couch.

"No you told me, and I believe this is verbatim, 'Granger's coming, we're done with her,' as to why, you never did explain. Since we've been friends since infancy, I gave you some leeway, but she is clearly just as confused as we are."

When Blaise kept Draco pinned in his accusing glare, Draco relented.

 _The clock chimed eleven as Pansy closed the door behind her. Draco swung his legs off the bed. He made quick work of throwing on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some trainers and through the floo he went._

 _There were so many shadows in the Burrow at night and that incessant clock ticked - incessantly - threatening to wake someone and alert them to his presence. The creaky stairs were bad enough, practically shrieking with every step he took. He heard a knocking, then a door open. He froze. Although the voices were a flight or so away, Draco could recognize Hermione's voice anywhere now. The door closed and he waited a beat before continuing his trek._

 _He followed the voices to what he knew to be Red's door. Hermione was talking, "-after the war had lost theirs. What if his is still there because he still thinks - and what if he's the father - he - he can't be the father - my kids can't be Malfoy's - I can't -"_

 _Draco felt his fist clench against his will. Draco wanted it to stop, to just stop, "Kind words don't erase the past. I wish -" Draco could hear her sobbing now, "I wish I could take this bracelet off. It just reminds me that any day I might - I might forget the past and make the mistake that traps me." Draco wasn't sure which crack was louder, the snap of his disapparition or the icepick shattering his heart._

The other two Slytherins were silent after Draco's confession. It was Blaise who sheepishly broke the silence, "Well," He looked anywhere but at Draco, "You did torment her for the better part of our education, you can't be surprised that a few months of being there didn't change things enough for her to want to marry you."

Draco was silent and Theo could see his nails digging into his palms in an effort to keep himself together, "Merlin," Theo breathed, "I was right."

"The hell are you tal-" Draco's quick reaction told Theo all he needed, Blaise was still in the dark.

"How long?"

"What the fu-"

"How long have you been in love with Granger?" Theo asked again, firmer this time.

Draco looked back and forth between his two best friends. The two who had stuck with him through everything, sometimes in the shadows, but always there. Draco ran through the most recent list the ministry had provided for him. He had quickly memorized it. _Abbot, Hannah._ No. _Brown, Lavender_. Not if his life depended on it. _Fuergeson, Sarah_.

Finally added to the list. Her father was almost supportive of it. Draco had promised her father they wouldn't marry until they absolutely had to and that he would ensure she finished her education. Draco offered to sign any contract, magical or muggle, Mr. Fuergeson had wanted stipulating such terms. The father's easy compliance left Draco with the distinct impression that when Sarah received his owl, the first thing she did was exaggerate to her father how many witches get engaged as young as she was - neglected to mention that most were pureblood debutants, not half-blooded social-ladder climbers.

Draco felt dirty allowing her father to believe that if Draco didn't scoop up his daughter some other teenager would. Some other teenager who would take even greater advantage of her. Sarah was 16. It was legal. Not that he planned on any sort of contact until he absolutely had to. Four years after their marriage, according to his ancestor's terms - produce a child within five years of the wedding. By the end of the year he would be engaged to Sarah, next year he would marry her, and two years later she'd finish up school - and he'd finally have to live with her - and three years after that he'd have produced an heir. With Sarah.

But Draco felt the words pulled from his mouth to answer Theo's question, "Always."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Hermione kept her head ducked as she walked beside Blaise to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Breakfast had been unsettling to say the least. Draco had again sat at the Slytherin table and although Blaise and Theo remained with her at the eighth year table, Hermione had the impression their seating arrangement was more out of avoidance of Sarah and Astoria than from loyalty to their Gryffindor pet. Then the mail came.

Hermione often received anonymous letters. As did Draco. It was the nature of their stations after the war. They were both public figures. Some fan mail was to be expected. But the morning after Rita Skeeter's _Which Witch_ article flocks of owls flew through the hall dropping letters and howlers into both Hermione and Draco's laps. Sarah had been spared since she was an unknown. Hermione doubted Pansy fared as well.

Thankfully, Theo and Blaise helped Hermione sort through her mail. Ginny even came over to join, occupy what had previously been Draco's seat. As a Weasley, Ginny had expert-level experience with howlers and pranking charms and was indispensable in their quest to thwart the exploding howlers. Draco was not as lucky and had four different howlers shrieking at him by the time Hermione, Ginny and the boys left the hall.

 _How could you taint such a lineage?_

 _...The mudblood extraordinaire..._

 _Dirt beneath my shoes._

Had Blaise not sealed the doors behind them, Hermione might have heard the final howler shriek, _How dare you mistreat Ms. Granger. You have no right!_

As it was, she did not hear such support so she moped to class lacking any support besides Blaise. With her head hung low, Hermione saw more than felt on of the charms on her bracelet fall off just to cap off the perfect morning. Her groan drew Blaise's attention and the two watched as the light blue stone transformed into the eye of a silver snake pendant. A necklace weaved its way from the charm, fastening on itself, only long enough for a young child. Blaise's eyes were glued to the newly formed necklace as Hermione, grumbling as she settled into her seat, this time beside Blaise rather than beside Draco. Draco and Theo sat in the row in front of them.

"Granger," Blaise chuckled, "How'd you manage to break that? Those things are durable."

"Who knows?" Hermione bit out, "Probably something to do with Draco's new love life. Probably broke the magic."

Blaise hummed a bit. "That will make the Valentine's ball all the more interesting, I suppose." Hermione groaned. She had forgotten about McGonagall's latest attempt at inspiring inter-house unity. Ron would be going with Lavender and Draco with Sarah. Fabulous. "Would you do me a favor, Granger." She inclined her head, "I really don't want to be stuck with Astoria again, so would you do me the honor of being my date?" Hermione felt a small smile play at the corners of her lips.

"What a romantic proposal." She teased, but nodded all the same as Professor Wood began his lecture,

"Welcome back, class," Wood greeted, giving a particularly warm nod to Hermione - the only student he would have known well during his own scholarship, "I hope you all enjoyed your holiday recesses. Over the break, I became aware of a remarkable shortcoming in your Defense education. As you learned first hand in your third year, Dementors who formally guarded Azkaban are dark creatures that feed off happiness. When they feed, they drain the host of all hope, leaving depression in its wake. This affect can be so severe that their kiss leaves the victim's an empty shell. But you should all know this by now.

"What we will cover this week is how to defend yourself against them. Patronuses." Hermione sighed in relief. Finally, she had caught a break. She could summon her playful otter in her sleep, "A patronus is filled with all the hope and happiness the Dementors can feed off, protecting the caster from the Dementor's despair.

"Some of you might be able to project a corporeal Patronus, an animal you would have felt a particular connection to, but by the end of the day, the goal is to project at least the noncorporeal wisp of a Patronus." With that, Oliver turned them loose to attempt their Patronuses.

The thirteen eighth years lined one wall, facing the rest of the room. Wood cast a spell to levitate and suspend the recently vacated desks. Wood gave them the go-ahead and a silver otter and a silver squirrel burst forth from Hermione and Michael Corner's wands. Hermione let a smug smile tug at her lips when she noticed her Slytherin boys were watching her little otter in wonder. Neville conjured a bear and Lavender a mouse - both of these were new to Hermione and she watched as her classmates each stepped up to the plate. Fay let loose a galloping horse, Hannah a leaping rabbit, Terry Boot a bounding golden retriever, and Su Li a fluttering Robin. Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Goldstein, Blaise and Theo all managed strong non-corporeal mists. Their shields would do them well enough if faced with a dementor or two. Draco, on the other hand, could barely muster a slight sliver of silver gas. The period was drawing to an end and Draco's face was getting increasingly frustrated, not that anyone but Hermione and the other Slytherin noticed.

Hermione snuck through the milling students - those who had been able to produce corporeal patronuses, and stood just behind Draco.

"Think of your happiest memory." Hermione whispered quietly to him. "Think of getting your wand or quidditch or -"

"Ya, Granger, I know that." He growled out, "It's just not working."

"Then try something else." Hermione rolled her eyes, "Christmas or your family -" Draco snorted, "- or Lucy or Sarah or -" That got some reaction. Draco's mist solidified to something that might actually do him some good in the field. _Sarah. Good. At least he's happy._

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

Draco let his bag fall off his shoulder and onto the floor. He quickly followed its trajectory and landed in a lump on the couch. Blaise and Theo followed him down the stairs into the eighth year dungeon. Blaise crossed to Hermione's closed door and knocked. Nothing. Theo did the same to Lucy's to the same result. Draco ignored them, rubbing his fingers into his temples. He could still hear the howlers shouting at him. _How dare you cheat on Hermione. She's such a nice girl. She deserves better than you. Don't hurt her any more than you have. If I didn't think you were scum before, after seeing how you treated Miss Granger I definitely would._ The voices reverberated around his head.

He just wanted to be left alone to the voices in his head, but Theo and Blaise had other ideas. The duo then turned on their friend.

"What'd Granger say to you in Defense?" Theo cut through the silence.

"Nothing important." Draco pulled a letter from his bag. He had received it this evening along with another bout of hate mail.

"Ya ok. Just something meaningful enough to double the strength of your charm." Blaise rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the picture in disbelief.

"Nothing she said had any impact." Draco said with a new conviction, "She mentioned Sarah, as if that would've helped."

"Yet you're going to marry her?" Theo questioned.

"I don't have the time to wait for her to completely change her mind." The boys fell silent, "I got this letter today." Draco abruptly changed the subject, "She's walking now."

"When?" Blaise asked, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that really -" Draco started, but Blaise cut him off with his repeated question, "This morning apparently." A little silver snake slithered through Blaise's mind, "I have to speak to my mother."

Theo and Blaise had spent enough time with Draco to recognize a dismissal. The two boys left, off to the library as they had planned to work on their latest transfiguration assignment. Draco waited until he heard the _whoosh_ of his friends passing through the fake wall upstairs. He silenced the room and placed a simple ward around the fireplace, just strong enough that any intruders would know to leave him the hell alone.

"Draco!" His mother exclaimed when she saw her son's head bob into being in the flames of her hearth. She sat at the edge of the chaise, close enough to see the details of his face, the bags under his eyes.

"Mother." He gave her one of his patented smirks, "We have to have a discussion."

"About, dear?"

"My cousin." His mother's face tightened, "She's walking. What are we going to do with her?"

He mother pinched the bridge of her nose, "Draco, I can't take her. No one would believe her to be mine."

"Mother, I'm blonder than you." Draco grimaced. They had had this argument before.

"You know who isn't?" His mother smirked. _Did people hate when he smirked this much?_ "Blonder than me, that is?" His mother flicked out a newspaper that lay discarded on a nearby table and pointed to the dark haired woman on the page.

"No." Draco said firmly, "I will not involve her in this. And that article is trash none of it's true."

"You're telling me one of these women will not be my daughter in law?" Narcissa fixed him with a look only a mother could manage. "Because I was really hoping for this one." She pointed a finger at the girl she preferred, "I think she'd fit in well. And her hair is nice and dark. A plausible mother." Draco scowled at his mother, "But you'll have to move quickly Draco or no one will believe the story."

 **xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox**

"Alright, Granger, spill it." Hermione looked at Ginny with too-confused eye, "We've only been back for a week. We're in the library your favorite place on earth and you look like a kicked puppy."

"He hasn't talked to me all week." Ginny didn't have to ask who Hermione was talking about.

Ginny had noticed. Everyone had noticed. Three months into an intense new friendship, The Slytherin Prince, the Teenage Death Eater, and The Slytherin Princess were back on the outs. The Hogwarts rumor mill was running wild. She had met his mother over break and she had disapproved. He had reverted to his muggle-hating ways. Ginny's personal favorite was that Hermione had gotten pregnant. The Hogwarts robes were baggy, sure, but _the Hermione Granger_ would never behave so irresponsibly. The Hogwarts student body should know that by now.

"He's too busy with Sarah." Hermione grimaced, "He goes to his quidditch practice, eats with her, walks her to and from classes, sits with her in the library and then comes back to his room after everyone else is asleep. That's assuming he even comes back. I never see him. So who really knows?" She ranted. Ginny let her. "I used to talk to him every day. And now he's gone. We were only friends for a few months this shouldn't be affecting me like this. It just _shouldn't be._ " The brunette looked haunted as she looked at her friend for guidance, "Ginny, we talked about this. He's bad news. Him being too busy with Sarah to bug me should be a blessing. I _shouldn't_ want him."

"But?" Ginny twirled her pen, a muggle invention Ginny had fallen in love with.

"I miss him." Hermione seemed to collapse in on herself, as if admitting this was her biggest failure, "So so much."

Ginny sighed. She had known it was coming, but she had hoped it wasn't the case. "Hermione," Ginny started, "You said just the other day that him being nice didn't make a difference. That if you kept up the way you were that you'd be trapped."

Hermione took a shuddering breath, "Maybe I liked being trapped more than I thought."


End file.
